


The Two Crowns

by jelliclekitten



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fantasy AU, Gen, I like the Egos too much, Slow Build, did we really need another one, long story, with an all star cast!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-17 17:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 59,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14194476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelliclekitten/pseuds/jelliclekitten
Summary: In the kingdom of Lipier, there is but one dull spot in the otherwise illustrious rule of the crown: the Wylde Folk, a village that thirty years previous refused to be conquered. Since then they have hidden themselves in the woods, learning magic from the races there and surviving despite being cut off from the resources of the kingdom.Prince Mark means to bring an end to all that, and to bring the Wylde Folk to heel by the sword.But when he meets the Prince of the Wylde Folk, everything he's ever known may just have to change.





	1. The Way of Things

It was the thirtieth fall to dawn in the kingdom of Lipier since the rebellion of the Wylde Folk had started, and a fine fall day it was: the sun rose golden over trees still dressed in fiery-colored leaves, the sky was clear and blue as far as one’s eye could see, and a breeze carried with it the last vestiges of summer’s warmth. Farmers arose to tend their herds and to harvest the last of the fruits and vegetables of the fields, merchants stocked their stores for another day in the markets, and in the palace the prince of Lipier was looking forward to starting his day with a ride outside the castle walls before his duties called him back indoors.

Prince Mark was in the middle of eating a hurried breakfast in his bedchambers while his servants dressed him for riding in garments of lightweight silk and softened leathers. He was impatient to be off, but he was known for being impatient and impulsive in many things. He knew the two knights who usually accompanied him, Sir Tyler and Sir Ethan, would be already outside and awaiting him by the time that he emerged at the stables’ gate. His horse, a coal-black friesian stallion named Thunder, would already be saddled and awaiting him, his reins held by the senior stablehand James. He knew that they already anticipated his needs but just for once he’d enjoy being able to beat them to the punch. Alas, today it was once again not meant to be. He glanced in the mirror and raked his fingers through his unruly mess of black hair, making a note that he needed to get it trimmed, before he headed into the hallway and down the stairs to the stables. Sure enough, there was Thunder all ready to go, with Sir Tyler and Sir Ethan already saddled up on their own horses, both Andalusians and both of dappled gray coloring. He saddled up with a quiet “thank you” to James, before turning to the two knights. “Gentlemen?”

“We are at your service, my prince,” Sir Tyler said while placing a hand over his heart and leaning forward slightly. He was the senior of the two and thus held the right to speak for both of them in the prince’s presence unless Prince Mark directly addressed one of them. Sir Ethan did, however, replicate the gesture as Sir Tyler bowed forward in his saddle.

“Excellent. Then we ride out.” He clicked his tongue and Thunder sprung forward eagerly, just as ready as his rider to embrace the morning’s freedoms. Both knights immediately fell in behind him, and the three rode quickly out the palace gate into the open fields surrounding the capital city of Lipier. Prince Mark immediately urged Thunder to a faster pace, the stallion increasing his speed to a gallop, as the trio rode for the trails that wound through the very edges of the thick and eldritch forest just a few hundred yards from the walls of the city. The prince did not slow his steed until there were trees on either side of them. Behind him, Sir Tyler and Sir Ethan both came up at slower speeds than he had ridden in at. Prince Mark turned and smiled at the two. “You two and your precautions. You’re so dull.”

“And yet if you keep riding into the woods like that, we’ll be the ones to outlive you,” Sir Tyler retorted as he brought his own horse up alongside Thunder’s shoulder. All three men seemed to visibly relax at once at that. In the woods, the rules could change. It could be three friends, rather than a prince and his bodyguards. “How goes the lessons on your new role?”

“Ah, military training.” The prince waved a hand in the air. “Really, all I’m expected to do is say ‘go to that place’ and people underneath me do all the actual planning and ordering. I don’t even see why there’s a need to train me at all.”

“You do ride out the with troops, though.” This came from Sir Ethan, who trailed behind the pair. “Perhaps they’ll cover something regarding commanding them in the field soon.”

“I certainly hope so. I have far more entertaining things to do with my time than to sit at a table and hear about tactics and old grudges. Though I will say this: I’ve been drawing up plans to finally take down the Wylde Folk.”

“Really?” Sir Tyler’s eyebrow quirked. “And how are you planning to do that? No one even knows where their village is any more.”

“I’ve heard it told that they worked with the elves and the dryads to make the woods hide where they are,” Sir Ethan added.

“Father has sent out agents to spy for him,” Prince Mark replied. “We have a good idea of where they are, and who has been aiding them.”

“If you manage to do that, you would go down in history as the prince who ended the rebellion.” Sir Ethan sounded a bit in awe.

“The king, you mean.” Prince Mark squared his shoulders, looking over his shoulder long enough to address Sir Ethan. “The _king_ who ended the rebellion.”

“Oh-! Yes, of course. The king.” Sir Ethan glanced at Sir Tyler, who raised a hand from where it had been resting on his leg and ever so slightly waved it once- twice- back towards the younger knight. Sir Ethan knew this gesture too well now. Prince Mark had become more and more wound up with the thoughts of his future since being given the reins to the military of his father’s kingdom, which meant his moods tended to be fickle. “My apologies, your highness. I misspoke.”

“Your apology is accepted, Sir Ethan,” the prince intoned before falling quiet. For a time, the only sounds around them were their mounts’ footfalls on the earth below and the natural sounds of the forest. The next time the prince drew up his horse and had the group halt, they were up in the hills, overlooking the city below through a clearing in the trees. He cleared his throat before speaking. “It is rather amusing to think of how I used to ride up here only a few months ago and look down on all that and think it was too much to be handled by one man.”

“Indeed.” Sir Tyler sounded distracted, though, and Sir Ethan immediately began to look around for what the other knight had heard or seen. “Your highness… far be it from me to be commanding you, but something here doesn’t feel right today. I think it’s in your best interests if we were to return.”

The prince briefly looked as though he was going to snap at the knight, but then he nodded. “I trust your judgement, Sir Tyler.” He started to turn his horse back towards the trails down the hill when the first arrow sunk into the tree just next to his head. “What in the hell-”

“Sir Ethan, crossbow at the ready!” Sir Tyler was already loading a bolt as he looked at the prince. “Ride, sire! We’ll cover your escape!”

For the first time in his life, Prince Mark was genuinely fearful of dying as he spurred Thunder onward. As the black stallion fled into the trees, Sir Tyler turned to Sir Ethan.

“Cover him, Ethan. I’ll give you two time to get away!”

“Tyler-”

“Go!” Sir Tyler’s hand moved almost immeasurably fast against the flank of Sir Ethan’s horse, and the beast lunged forward in its surprise. Sir Ethan found his seat quickly enough and glanced back long enough to see something leap from the trees at Sir Tyler, who was shouting in the attacker’s face. “ _For Lipier-!!_ ”

Sir Ethan turned his gaze forward again, leaning against his mount’s neck to keep himself from doing something as foolish as getting knocked from his saddle by a branch. The soil ahead was kicked up by fresh hoofprints, so he knew that the Prince was still on the move. For the moment, that was all that he cared to know about. Crossbow still in his hand, he urged his horse down the hillside as fast as he dared, knowing that a single misstep could kill them both. He could hear something coming on behind him, just as he could see Prince Mark ahead. “Sire, go-!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Keep going!” He turned to fire backwards- only to find an attacker at his side, swinging a club into his head. In an instant, he was off his horse, though he was automatically on his feet to engage the enemy. He watched as Prince Mark disappeared around a bend and pulled his sword instead in order to try and slash his attacker down as quickly as possible.

Further down the hill, Prince Mark was now very aware that he was still quite a ways from the palace gates and down both his bodyguards. The forest that he had so looked forward to disappearing into only an hour ago now seemed foreboding and lethal as he recklessly had Thunder go down the hill at as close to a gallop as the horse would let him, both rider and steed completely unaware that they were no longer on the trail that they knew so well. He glanced behind himself to see if Sir Ethan or Sir Tyler had rejoined him, when he was suddenly knocked from Thunder’s back. The last thing that he would register was staring up into the glimpse of that perfect blue sky that appeared between the tree branches, before he landed headfirst on the knobby roots on a pine tree and was knocked unconscious.

* * * * *

Morning passed into afternoon, and afternoon into early evening, before anyone would come across the prince. His horse had continued on its way without its rider, so for all the world it appeared that the crown prince of Lipier had decided to take a nap at the base of the pine tree he was laying at.

It was as the daylight was fading that he was discovered by another party of three. A short, stout man in sturdy if battered armor with a beard, a male dryad, and a man dressed in all black stood back a ways, looking at the man. It was the dryad who spoke first.

“What do you suppose even happened?”

“Hard to say,” the short man in armor replied, picking up a stick to poke the prince in the hip. When there was no reaction, he dropped the stick and stepped back. “Brian, check if he’s breathing.”

The man in black moved up next to the prince’s head, putting two fingers under his nose. After a moment, he nodded.

“Well damn. He’s alive, at least.” The dryad looked between the other two in his group. “What should we do?”

“Well I’m not about to go trotting up to the gates with him. I’ll be shot on sight, same as you.” The shorter man gestured at the man in black. “And Brian swore a blood oath to never go back in there until the King’s dead.”

The man in black pulled a knife from a hidden spot and looked hopefully at the prince’s chest.

“Brian, I don’t think stabbing him to death is going to help him any.” The dryad gave him a look until the knife was hidden away again, either ignoring or unphased by the dirty look he got in return. “Maybe we ought to ask Sean.”

The man in armor grinned. “That’s not a half-bad idea. If nothing else, he stops being our problem, right?” He chuckles. “Load him up, boys. Let’s take him to the Wylde Folk. I’m sure that Prince Sean would love the opportunity to meet him.”


	2. Into the Wylde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unconscious prince is brought to the Wylde Folk. What will be his fate?

The gates of the Wylde Folk were invisible to the untrained eye, but the three men with the Prince clearly knew how to gain access. The dryad walked ahead and placed a hand on an oak tree, intoning a clear, light note. As soon as his voice disappeared, a heavy gate made of wooden logs became visible and started to rise. As soon as it stopped moving, the group walked in. The village was quiet but clearly busy: to one side, a group of youngsters were listening to an older man as he showed them how to fletch arrows with what little light there was left to see by; to the other, a blacksmith was busy banking down his forge’s fire for the evening while an apprentice doused swords in a barrel of water that was nearly as tall as him.

“This bastard’s getting heavy,” the man in armor grumbled as they walked on, shifting how Prince Mark was draped over his shoulders. The prince still hadn’t even stirred or made the slightest noise since they had come across him.

“Probably all that fancy food and easy living back at the palace,” the dryad returned. “And I did offer to carry him, Arin, but you told me you had it handled.”

“He’d likely snap you in half, you twig.”

“Awh, you _do_ care!”

Arin groaned as the dryad chuckled to himself. “Where even is Sean-?”

Brian pointed towards the western edge of the village, at a platform built high up into a pine tree. If someone didn’t know what they were looking for, it would nearly blend into the branches and needles perfectly. The dryad looked that way, before looking at Arin. “Probably his usual spot.”

“Oh for fuck’s…” Arin sighed. “Him and that damned watchpost. Danny. Go signal him already.”

The dryad grinned before walking away. After a few moment, he returned with a shorter, younger man following behind him. The young man was dressed in dark browns and greens, the clothes hanging close to his lean frame, a longbow hung over his shoulder and two daggers hanging from the heavy leather belt around his waist. He took one look at the man across Arin’s shoulders before he spoke, his tone somewhere between furious and terrified. “Guys… Please. Tell me that’s not who I think it is.”

“Oh no, it totally is,” Danny replied, still sounding amused.

Sean looked around. The children who had been learning about crafting arrows were now starting to disperse, and curious little faces were turning in the group’s direction as they broke away from the fletcher’s stall. “We need to discuss this somewhere private then.” He turned on his heel, and the group followed after him to a small home near the village’s outer wall- Sean’s home, which despite its sparse decoration he had been living in now for close to six months. He cleared his table and got lanterns lit so everyone could see clearly, and Arin hefted the man off his shoulders with a grunt onto the table as soon as he was able to. “Right. First things first. What were you three even _thinking_ -?!”

“We didn’t do a damn thing,” Arin immediately shot back as he rolled his shoulders to relieve the ache in them from lugging the man now laying on the table. “We found him by the stream, in the middle of the woods. Whoever did this to him just dumped him there.”

Brian gestured at the man’s head, where the hair was still sticky with blood. Danny spoke up for him. “Brian has a good point. They were probably counting on that wound to kill him. Or an animal to take advantage of him being too weak to defend himself.”

“Very true,” Sean mused, looking down at the unconscious prince. He was quiet for a long moment before looking up at the other three men. “I do believe that what we have on our hands is an opportunity. But we can’t let anyone else know what we’re up to.”

“And what precisely, Prince Sean, is that?” asked Arin while he folded his arms over his chest.

“Ransom. And don’t call me that silly nickname.” He gestured roughly at the prince on the table. “I’m nothing like this soft, pampered ass.”

“Right, of course not. So what’s the plan?”

“Danny will take him up to the guard outpost on the northeast corner. Tie him up and guard him, while we send a letter to the King to let him know that he needs to forget about conquering the Wylde Folk if he wants his precious prince back.”

Danny cocked an eyebrow. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Thirty years of fending for ourselves is harsh,” Sean returned, “with no hope of support in the way of food or supplies or arms if we were attacked. I hardly think that we’re being too aggressive to make it clear that we’re done being the target of the King’s ire, all because he couldn’t finish the damned job thirty years ago.”

“If you say so, I guess.” Danny bent over to gather up the prince, who groaned faintly. “Looks like he may be coming to soon.”

“Make sure he’s bound well, then. I don’t want to lose this chance.”

Danny let out the tiniest sigh. “You got it.” A moment later, he disappeared out of the house with the prince on his back, leaving Sean with Arin and Brian.

“He doesn’t trust my judgment.” Sean frowned ever so slightly.

“He’s a dryad. They naturally avoid war and conflict,” Arin replied, sitting down at the table. “You’re fortunate that he likes you enough to not outright refuse to help.”

“He’s seen how hard we’ve had it. He understands why I have to do this.”

Arin shrugged. “Understanding the cause and agreeing with it are often two very different mountains to mine, as my father always said.”

“Do dwarves ever _not_ have a saying for a situation, Arin?”

“Maybe not all dwarves, but my father certainly seems to.” Arin leaned back in his chair, watching as Brian took a seat as well and started sharpening one of his knives. After a moment of silence, he looked back at Sean. “And what are you telling the elders? About this plan of yours, I mean.”

Sean stiffened, and Arin realized that the younger man hadn’t thought that far ahead. The village elders had been in control for the last year and a half by this point, since the previous leader Jon had disappeared during a hunt in the woods. The general opinion was that he had been captured by the crown, though some- Sean included- believed that he would not have been foolish enough to venture that close to the palace, and that he had instead either fallen ill or been injured and lost his way back to the village, dying in the process. Since then the elders had decided to govern as a council, one favored a solitary, hidden existence rather than allowing the freedoms and liberty that the villagers had known in the past. Arin also knew that this limitation had been driving Sean mad for the last eighteen months, as he had grown up as free as a bird in the village until then. Hell, that was how Danny and he had met him a few years ago: Arin had grown up outside of the village with his dwarven father and human mother, and he knew Danny from his own playtime in the woods as a child since the dryad’s “home” tree was near his parents’ house. The two had been walking through the woods when they heard rain falling on the leaves but realized none was falling on them. They looked up and spotted a teenaged Sean in the branches, grinning down at them as he jumped from tree to tree around them. Without a moment’s hesitation, he climbed down like a squirrel and introduced himself to the pair. The next day he was back again, to follow them around and to barrage them with questions about their lives and the things that they knew about the woods. As the days turned into weeks, they too learned about the boy: that he wanted to be a hunter for the village so that he would always be able to go into the woods; that he had developed an affinity for water magic and was able to do some small tricks with it, such as the stunt he had pulled when he first met them; about his family and the friends he had in the village. After that, the two started to venture into the village, until eventually they were practically fixtures there themselves. And naturally wherever Danny went, other magical beings seemed to follow, so within the next couple months a few elves began to visit, and then halflings came to trade their goods, and finally the dwarves started coming down as well. Less consistently seen were nymphs or dryads or fauns, but still- appearances were made.

Given the proclamations that had occasionally made their way into the village, if the King had any idea how many non-humans were a part of the daily life here? He would likely have sent his armies to burn the forest to the ground long ago, rather than his current tactic of sending spies into the forests every few months to try and figure out where the village was.

Sean still hadn’t answered him, he realized as he finished his reflections. “Sean-”

“I heard you,” the man grumbled. It was hard to think of him as young as he really was, given how seriously he usually carried himself- until things like this happened, Arin thought to himself. “I… haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“Sean!”

“I know, I know!” Sean started to pace back and forth on the opposite side of the table. Arin watched Brian track the younger man with his eyes, like a cat tracking a rodent or bird. “If we’re careful, we shouldn’t even need to let the elders know. So we’ll just have to be careful.”

“That’s a huge if.”

“I’ll worry about that when I have to.” He stared at Arin, the flickering lantern light catching his blue eyes and making them stand out in the dim light.

“Fair enough.” Arin shrugged. “If you think you can make it work that way, then we’ll help. Right, Brian?”

The man in black shrugged, now not even looking up from sharpening his knife.

“Brian.” Arin gave him a look, and he looked up and nodded instead. Satisfied, he looked back up at Sean. “Yeah. We’re all in.”

Sean smiled ever so slightly. “Thanks guys. I mean that. Now let’s go make sure the prince is nice and comfy in his new palace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having way too much fun writing this. Next chapter will probably be up in two days as I'm going to the Jacksepticeye tour tomorrow night AAAAAAAAH I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S HAPPENING...  
> Sorry- I got crazy lucky with a last minute ticket and I'm still on cloud 9.  
> Please comment and leave kudos!


	3. Further Down the Chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of Prince Mark's disappearance has reached the palace, and everyone is acting on it in their own ways...

It was pitch black out as Sir Tyler urged his horse towards the palace gate, navigating solely from the torches that were lit on the walls. Thankfully Warlord, his stallion, was well-trained and galloped along the road with only the lightest of touches. That was definitely a blessing for the knight as he held the reins in one hand while pressing his other into his thigh, where a wound was throbbing. “Damn it all,” he muttered aloud through tightly gritted teeth. As he drew closer to the gate, he groaned internally as he saw the last person waiting in the torchlight that he was mentally ready to deal with: the commander of the royal guard, Sir William.

“Sir Tyler.” And of course he’d already spotted him. “What is the meaning of this? Where are Sir Ethan and the Prince? I’ll have you know that the king is about to have our heads-”

“We were attacked,” he interrupted as he dismounted from Warlord, wincing anew as the action jolted the injury to his leg. “I sent Sir Ethan and the prince ahead to get back safely while I engaged. I’ve spent the entire day trying to find either of them, but I’ve had no luck…” He trailed off as he watched Sir William’s face turn ashen. “Neither of them returned here?”

“Not a one.”

“Then they must have been taken captive, or…” Sir Tyler couldn’t bear to even think of the alternative, let alone to say it.

Sir William frowned darkly at that. “Go and be seen to by the healers. I will relay this to the King myself so that the appropriate actions can be taken.”

“Yes sir.” Sir Tyler limped away in the direction of the barracks, Warlord patiently following along behind.

The commander watched the young man go and sighed, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. A message like this was the stuff of nightmares, but he would not put it upon the knight to be the bearer of such bad news. He turned towards the entrance into the palace, so deep in thought that he did not realize he had been joined by someone until the other man spoke.

“You’re looking quite pensive tonight, commander.”

Sir William nearly jumped out of his skin, stopping in his tracks and looking to his left. There, dressed in all black as he was known to usually do, was Prince Mark’s cousin, Prince Damien. _As much as the son of a prince can still be counted as a prince, anyways,_ he thought before he spoke. “With good reason, I fear, Prince Damien.”

“Oh? How so?”

“I’m afraid I must share this with the King first, your highness. Chain of command and all that.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Far be it from me to be the-” He paused to chuckle. “-weak link, as it were.”

Sir William forced a polite laugh at that. “I appreciate your understanding, your highness. Please, excuse me.” And he headed on his way, still aware that Prince Damien was trailing behind him. The man was probably going to follow him into the throne room so he could eavesdrop. Sir William bristled slightly at that, but knew he had no jurisdiction to block a member of the royal family from being in the same room as the King unless ordered to.

He continued his way through the passageways of the palace, aware at all times that Prince Damien was still behind him though acting as though he was unaware. Finally, he arrived at the throne room and announced himself. “Your majesty, Sir William, commander of your royal guard, would approach the throne.”

“Come forth.” 

He strode forward from the doorway, bowing deeply and waiting for the King to acknowledge him before he spoke.

“Any word of my son, commander?”

_Damn it all._ He straightened back up. “He has still not returned, your majesty, but one of his bodyguards did. Sir Tyler arrived back just moments ago with an injury to his leg. He says that they were attacked while riding and that he sent Prince Mark and Sir Ethan ahead to escape. Once he had fought off the people attacking him, he says that he spent the rest of the day trying to find either your son or his fellow knight without any success.” He heard the door behind him, the same one he had come in through, close. Either Prince Damien had fallen behind and was only just coming in, or- and more likely- he had eavesdropped at the door and decided now was the right time to make his appearance in the throne room.

The King was quiet a long moment. “Sir Tyler is well known for his steadiness and drive. So I trust that he was as thorough as he could be, given his lack of resources.”

“I feel that same way, your majesty-”

“Prince Damien, son of Prince James, your majesty.” Sir William glanced back as the prince interrupted, suddenly aware that the other man was up to something.

The King, however, nodded his approval. “Come forward, nephew, though I fear you’ve caught us in the middle of some hard news.”

Prince Damien walked up next to Sir William, as the commander continued. “I will meet with my officers in the morning, and create a plan for how we are to move forward. May providence guide our thoughts and actions so that Prince Mark is found quickly.”

“Indeed. I will look for you to return here after you have concluded that meeting, commander.”

“Of course, your majesty.” He bowed deeply again, before saluting, and then turned on his heel to leave the throne room. Once he was back in the hallway, he all but ran from the place, not stopping until he was in his office in the barracks and the door was shut behind him. He lit the lantern on his desk and cracked a window open for some fresh air, before sitting down heavily in the chair at his desk. In all his years of service to the crown, he could never have imagined this scenario as something he would have to deal with. A cold ball of panic formed in the pit of his stomach. _How do I even start to plan for this?_ he wondered, before grabbing a map of the kingdom to reference. _All right Billy. Stop panicking and **focus**. Sir Tyler has told you the route. Plan around that._

He was so deep in thought that the knock on his door nearly sent him falling out of his chair. After he’d composed himself, he spoke up. “Enter.”

The door opened and Prince Damien let himself in, smiling faintly. “Sir William,” he said in his most pleasant, easy-going tone.

“Your highness,” the commander returned. “How may I help you..?”

“By paying up on the favor I’m owed.” The prince’s tone stayed pleasant, but his expression hardened.

“I- I hardly think that now is an appropriate time, your highness-” He jumped as the prince slammed his hands on the desk, nearly tipping his inkwell over in the process.

“Now, if ever, _is_ the most appropriate time, Billy boy.” Somehow that cheery voice stayed put, despite the menace the prince was now practically emitting from every inch of his body. The volume of his voice, as well as the nicety, suddenly dropped as he drew all the closer to Sir William. “Or would you rather I release all that I know about your shady past, and ruin all prospects of your career for the rest of your days?”

Sir William drew back, suddenly understanding everything. Prince Damien had, somehow, caught him in a compromising position a few years back, when he had made the mistake of becoming intimate with the wife of one of his men while the man was assigned to an outpost. Prince Damien had sworn secrecy on the subject - but had also told Sir William that his silence would come with a price. Sir William had thought, too optimistically, that perhaps the prince had forgotten that part of the bargain, but now he could see how very wrong he was. “Your highness,” he managed to stutter out after a long moment, “you cannot be serious about this. Your cousin, the crown prince, is missing, and you would interrupt my planning for his safe rescue to collect on such a thing as that?!”

“Never you mind about my timing,” he growled in response. “I want to know _everything_ , from this moment onward, that is discussed in regards to the search for my cousin. I don’t care if you’re not even supposed to _think_ about a certain detail outside of this office or my uncle’s throne room: _I am to be unconditionally made aware of it_. Am I clear?”

Sir William swallowed hard, before he finally responded. “Yes, your highness.”

“Excellent.” Prince Damien leaned back, tone once again cordial. “I look forward to discussing the matter with you. Have a good evening, Sir William.”

“And you as well, Prince Damien.” The prince inclined his head towards him, before slipping out his office’s door, and the commander put his head into his hands.

What the hell had he just promised to do..?

* * * * * *

Outside of the office and under its opened window, a slight woman wrapped in a dark hooded cloak crouched, watching as Prince Damien walked away from the commander’s office and towards the palace. A moment later, the window above her was pulled closed. She waited a moment more before creeping out from her hiding spot and then walking towards the barracks, picking up her skirts so that she could hurry along. After a few minutes, she was nearly at the entrance, but was blocked by two men standing guard.

“Not tonight, missy,” one said with a chuckle. “Palace is all a-tizzy tonight and we’re likely to all be up at the crack of dawn. We won’t be wanting any comforting.”

“I’m not here for that,” she replied, coolly, as she dropped her hood. The guard immediately made a choked noise, as his partner snorted a laugh. “I wish to be taken to see Sir Tyler.”

The second guard spoke up, still sounding as though he was fighting off laughter. “Of course, Duchess Amy. Please, follow me.”

The first guard bowed as she started to pass. “Please, Duchess Amy, I beg your forgiveness for what I said. I misspoke terribly, and I am truly sorry. Please don’t let Sir William hear of that, m’lady, please.”

_I fear he has more pressing concerns,_ was her first thought, but she replied, “I will keep your apology in mind.”

“Thank you, m’lady, honestly.”

They walked away from the man, and it wasn’t until they were within the barracks that her escort spoke. “My apologies for Heinrich’s behavior, Duchess. He tends to think more with his little head than his big one.”

“As I said, I will keep his apology in mind,” she replied. “I will not likely say anything unless this proves to be a habit of his around me.”

“He’s smarter than that, at least,” the knight replied. “Here, right this way. Last I knew he was staying with the healer overnight to make sure his wound hadn’t gone infected.”

She frowned at that. “I hadn’t heard that he was injured.”

“Nothing too grievous that I know of. Whoever attacked got lucky and found a gap between his armor and mail, and laid a good swipe down on it to boot.”

“I see.” The explanation did little to comfort her, as the knight opened the door to the healer’s quarters and she let herself in. After a brief conversation with the healer, she was taken to Sir Tyler’s bedside. She smiled faintly as the man tried to sit up as straight as he could on the cot he was resting on. “Good evening, Sir Tyler. Please don’t overexert yourself on my behalf.”

“Good evening, Duchess Amy,” he replied as he settled back again. “I… suppose you’re here to ask about your fiance.”

“I just want to make sure I know what’s actually going on,” she said in turn, mind briefly returning towards the exchange she just overheard between the commander and Prince Damien.

“We went on our usual path, the one that goes up into the hills that Prince Mark favors so much.”

“The one that overlooks the entire city?”

“That’s the one. He seemed distracted, and a little more touchy than normal, but I figured it was because of his new responsibilities. I overheard movement in the brush, and I sent him back to the palace with Sir Ethan covering him. As soon as Sir Ethan was gone, I was set upon by orcs.”

“Orcs?” Her eyebrows shot up. “But- are you certain? There haven’t been orcs near the walls in over thirty years.”

“Since the King did his sweep after taking the throne, before Prince Mark was born, yes. I didn’t believe it either. But I know what I saw, and what I saw wasn’t human. I fought with them as best I could, but… well, then this happened.” He gestured to his thigh, under the sheet. “After I was on the ground, they went in the same direction Prince Mark and Sir Ethan went in. I went and found my horse and followed, but found no sign of either Prince Mark or Sir Ethan, or of the orcs. I searched as long as I had some light to see by, without any luck. That was when I made my way back. I made a brief report to Sir William, and then I was sent here, where I have been ever since.”

“Sir William just returned from reporting to the King, I think,” she replied. “I saw him lighting the lantern in his office as I was walking in.”

“He’ll likely hear my whole story tomorrow morning,” Sir Tyler said after a huge yawn.

“Here, you ought to be resting. I won’t bother you any longer. I wish you the best in your recovery.”

The knight grinned up at her. “That’s more a hope for the healer than for me, but thank you. Good night, Duchess Amy.”

“Good night, Sir Tyler.”

She was led out of the barracks by the same guard who escorted her to the healer’s quarters, and started to turn towards the way back towards her own home, raising her hood again and pulling the cloak tightly around her to guard against the chill in the air. After a few steps, though, she hesitated and looked towards the palace instead, debating whether or not she should go to try and see the King tonight to tell him what she had just overheard between the commander and Prince Damien, as well what she had discussed with Sir Tyler. 

A strong breeze whipped through the square where she was standing, and she held her cloak shut with one hand while clapping her hood to her head with the other. There were now a million things on her mind: would Prince Mark be found? Hale and whole, or injured in either body or mind? If he was lost, what were the expectations for her as his intended? She assumed she would then be told to marry Prince Damien, and the thought sent a shudder through her. Prince Damien was pleasant enough in public, but Prince Mark did not trust him, and she supposed that she had inherited that from the time she’d spent around the crown prince. And if it was truly orcs that had been the ones to attack the group, what did that mean for the kingdom? If they had gotten that close, it was possible that the outposts had fallen-

_Never you mind about that military nonsense._ It was her old tutor’s voice that interrupted her thoughts. _A lady worries about her home, her manners, her family’s appearances and manners- not about wars and boundaries and treaties and the like._

That was before she was engaged to the crown prince who meant to overrun the Wylde Folk once and for all and to finally establish the kingdom’s borders, though. Which meant all he wanted to talk about was his plans for war and conquering. As a child, she had often imagined her courtship involving walks through gardens and dancing at parties, not sitting and listening patiently as he discussed the tactics of approaching that village in the forest for the hundredth time. She had only complained about it once, only to be told by her father that she wasn’t marrying him for him to be interesting to her. So instead she bit her tongue, hoped that once the village was taken that he would find more appealing things to discuss with her, and silently listened to his ongoing discussions of how to successfully force them to finally align with the views of the crown.

Another gust of wind, this one more brutally cold and powerful than the last, whipped past her. She had to duck into a doorway until it finally died down again. She sighed. _I doubt that he would see me this late, where I’m not family yet. I’ll wait until the morning to try and have an audience with the King,_ she decided. _Perhaps by then I’ll have made sense of everything that’s happened today and I’ll know exactly what I need to say to him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie wow this chapter came out long lol. I didn't want to split Damien and Amy's reactions though since they both addressed the same things. Plus I felt bad about not having it done and up yesterday but at the same time I was a little distracted since I was going to Jack's How Did We Get Here show in Boston. Protip: it was freaking AMAZING! I hope he's able to tour again so more people can get out to it.


	4. Most Unbecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Mark finds himself in the village of the Wylde Folk, and in the presence of their "prince" Sean. Needless to say, the two do not immediately hit it off...

The first thing Prince Mark was aware of as he slowly awoke was that he could not move his arms or legs. The second was the throbbing headache at the point of impact from his head meeting the roots. And the third was that he was not in his bedroom in the palace, which caused him to try and jerk himself upward.

He was bounded with rope, his arms tied behind his back while his legs were tied at both the knees and ankles, in such a way that would make it almost impossible to get to his feet. He also registered that he was laying in a rough wooden hut of some kind that was faintly swaying. _A treehouse?_ he thought after catching a glimpse under the door and seeing nothing but branches. _Was I kidnapped by_ children _, for pity’s sake?_ He started to thrash about, but every movement just seemed to make the ropes around his arms and legs tighten all the more. He groaned in irritation before finally looking around.

He was in his riding clothes, but the few pieces of armor and his weapons he had been carrying during the ride had been taken off and were nowhere to be seen. He was about to try to crawl for the table across the room, to see if perhaps his gear was on that and just out of sight, when the door opened.

Prince Mark initially wasn’t sure what the thing that came in even was. It was covered in pale, papery birch bark, with ivy growing over in swathes that appeared to be resembling clothing. Curling ferns topped its head to compose its hair. It stopped and looked down at him, and grinned. “Hello there,” it said when it realized that the prince was staring up at him, its voice both masculine and musical.

“What are you?” the prince demanded.

A frown crossed its face. “It’s nice to meet you too,” the thing replied, its tone turning sarcastic. “My name is Dan. And you are?”

He bristled at the creature before him taking an attitude with him, and he immediately raised his voice and put on his most authoritative tone, in spite of his laying on his side on the floor with no way of enforcing anything he was about to say. “I am the crown prince of the kingdom of Lipier, Prince Mark, and I will _not_ be addressed in such a way, you- you-”

“Dryad is the word you’re looking for,” came another voice in the doorway. He looked past Dan to see what he was guessing to be a human man, dressed in green and brown and wearing a mask. Only one of his eyes was visible, a bright blue one that was intensely focused on him. The other eye was covered by the mask, which depicted it as that same shade of blue but set in a sea of bright green. He strode across the room to look down at the prince. “And you’re in no place to be getting salty with anyone, your highness, so I suggest you calm down a touch.”

“Calm down? Like you have room to talk! You’ve kidnapped me!” His mind suddenly replayed the events that led up to this situation. “Where are my bodyguards? What have you done with Sir Tyler and Sir Ethan?”

“We haven’t seen hide nor hair of anyone else, your highness.” The man spit the last two words out like keeping them in his mouth made him feel ill. “A couple of ours found you out in the woods just before dusk last night, and brought you in so you wouldn’t become something’s dinner. You’re welcome, by the way, for that.”

“A likely story,” Prince Mark immediately snapped, though he was starting to feel mildly queasy at the idea of not knowing what happened to Sir Tyler or Sir Ethan. What if they had suffered worse than he had and no one had come to their rescue..? “And why am I bound like this?”

“Oh, please.” The other man crouched in front of Prince Mark, lifting the mask so the prince could finally get a good look at his face. He had fair skin and dark hair, which made those blue eyes all the more piercing, and his thin face made his unimpressed expression look intimidating. He was smirking as well, which immediately got the prince’s ire up. “I know that royalty typically isn’t bred for any sort of common sense, but I’ve heard tell that you’re smarter than most. You go ahead and tell me why you think we’ve tied you up all nice and neat.”

Prince Mark scowled darkly at him, trying again at his authoritative voice. After all, it worked well enough at the palace. “If you do not release me immediately-”

“You’ll what?” The smirk just grew wider and more cynical as the man interrupted him. “Roll your fool ass out the door and fall thirty feet to the ground, just so you can die a day later and in the village of the Wylde Folk instead of on the side of the mountain? Be my guest. You’ll be in worse shape than what you were already found in, sure, but we’ll still find some use for you. No skin off my nose.”

“My troops know where your village is. You will be flushed out like the rodents you are,” he hissed through his grinding teeth, “and you will watch as all this is burned to the ground, and then you will either bend the knee or die.”

“Well, gosh, when you put it like that.” The man dropped his mask over his face again as he straightened his legs out. “I’ll just go draw up the posters and make sure it gets pinned up with a paper for everyone to sign up on, shall I?”

“You insolent cur-!” The prince was cut off by the thud of a dagger embedding in the floor just in front of his nose. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at the man in front of him. Once again only his one eye was visible, but it was filled with hatred and contempt as it met his gaze.

“I suggest you learn to mind your damned tongue, your highness,” he said coldly. “Least my dagger find its mark and take it from you.”

“You wouldn’t dare-”

The man was down in his face before he could even blink. “Your father abandoned us all because we refused his barbaric rule and the taxes and limitations that came with it. We were _never_ part of his kingdom, nor did we ever wish to be, and he did _nothing_ to improve relations with us. This village has struggled to survive since before either you or I was alive. I mean to keep you until you are valuable to us. If that means you go back to your precious, fancy life alive, great for you, send us a letter some time soon. If it means you’re sent back in a box, that’s fine by me too. Just means you’re easier to transport.”

For the second time in as many days, Prince Mark realized that he could possibly be close to his demise. He tried to turn his panic into rage. “You’ll be signing your own warrants if you send me back dead,” he retorted. “The army, bounty hunters, you name it, they will be coming for you.”

“Let them come.” He dislodged his dagger from the floorboards and stood again, tucking it back into its sheath as he spoke. “I will fight for what we have here, with every fiber of my being, with every breath and heartbeat in my chest, until we have won our liberty or until I am fallen on the field of combat.”

Prince Mark sneered. “And who are you to even make these decisions for this village, anyways.”

The man had started to turn towards the door, so he looked over his shoulder at the prince on the floor. “I am known by many names and titles,” he replied evenly. “But you, Prince Mark, may call me Prince Sean of the Wylde Folk.” With that, he turned his head quickly forward and resumed heading out the door.

Dan glanced between the two men, following Sean out the door and shutting it behind him with a frown. He spoke hurriedly and as quietly as he could. “Are you _insane_?” he immediately asked, running his hands over his “hair” in a gesture that Sean recognized too well: Dan always did that at least once when he was feeling anxious.

“Maybe,” Sean answered, also in hushed tones. “But he needs to be kept in line. If he believes me to be in charge of everything here, perhaps he will be more… cooperative.”

“That’s a huge if!”

“Keep your voice down. -And yes, I am aware of that. But we have this chance. We have to take it while it’s here!”

Dan shook his head with a sigh. “I trust you but… I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Sean reached up and put a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “All I ask is for your trust right now, my friend. Hopefully this charade will not have to last too long.” He then raised his voice. “I leave you with food and water for the prisoner, Dan. Make sure he’s well kept but keep him bound for now.”

Dan looked briefly confused but then nodded. “Of course, your highness. I will make sure to take very good care of him while I am standing guard.”

“I’m glad to hear that. See to it that he is fed- this bag has provisions in it for him. I will go to speak to the others; you will be relieved of guard duty in three hours’ time.”

“Of course, my prince.” Dan took the bag that Sean had slung around his chest from him, and watched as the man made his way down by leaping to a sturdy branch on a neighboring tree and climbing down from there. He turned and opened the door again, setting the bag on the table before he went over to Prince Mark.

The man shied away from him silently, but then looked startled as he unbound his arms and hands before setting him so that he was sitting upright against the wall. “What are you doing?” he asked after a long moment.

“Making it so you can eat,” Dan replied, going over to the table to open the bag. There were two skins, a chunk of cheese, a small loaf of bread, and some fruit and vegetables, as well as a rough wooden plate. He took out everything out and sliced the food up before putting it on the plate and handing it to the prince, setting the two skins on the floor next to him. He leaned against the wall, listening to the trees outside as they sent whispers to each other on the breeze passing through, while watching the man eat ravenously. 

It wasn’t until he had inhaled about half the food he’d been presented that he finally spoke. “Is he serious? About… killing me, I mean.”

“Honestly? I hope he’s not. But he’s seen nothing but hard times his whole life, and it’s made him hard in turn.” Dan was quiet for a moment before he continued. “Sean is a good man, your highness. But he is doing what he thinks is for the best. I’m sure you understand.” He watched as the prince frowned and looked at his plate. _Or maybe you don’t,_ he thought.

_Humans are strange that way,_ replied a pine tree outside.

_Don’t I know it,_ Dan answered in turn. He watched as Prince Mark finished his food, drinking most of the water and half of the wine as well. When he was satisfied that the man was done with his meal, he moved to tie his hands up again- but this time, he tied them in front. The man looked up at him, and Dan spoke with a grin. “Look, you’ve still got some left to drink- and plus if you want to do your business, I’m not holding anything for you. So hands are going in front, for now, unless you do something to lose my faith in you.”

“Oh.” The man went slightly pink across his nose and cheeks at Dan’s words. It wasn’t until then that the dryad realized that the prince was likely not to have been addressed so coursely before, or so bluntly. “O-of course. And… thank you.”

_Maybe he can be redeemed,_ Dan thought with a very quick, and very small, grin before he spoke again. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short and I'm sorry! But I'm already working on chapter 5- we're going to find out what happened to Ethan!  
> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments!


	5. Out of the Frying Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Ethan finds himself in a camp surrounded by the last thing he wants to be encountering: orcs and goblins.

It had not been Sir Ethan’s best day.

He came to and found himself tied to a tree with a rope around either wrists. Whoever had tied him up, though, had either rushed or not really paid proper attention to the task: he felt his left hand able to start sliding free of the loop around it. He was unarmed, from what he could tell, though his armor- minus his helmet- was still on him and intact. For the moment he didn’t pull his arm free and instead he took a thorough look around the camp.

What he saw genuinely unsettled him.

Sloppy, makeshift tents dotted the landscape as far as he could possibly see. Among them wandered huge, ugly creatures, their skin green or gray in color save for where scars created white lines on their arms or faces or legs. Their armoring was slapdash, and looked to have been either salvaged or created with wood and skins. And based off his brief look at his surroundings? There were loads of them. At least two hundred strong, he estimated conservatively.

_Orcs._ Sir Ethan shuddered, the movement going through every part of him. _How have they gotten this close? Or was I carried that far away from the trail?_

One strode over, and Sir Ethan recoiled at realizing that it had a human face tanned and stretched over its own as a mask. “The little one awakes,” it growled in halting syllables, leaning forward. “Not the one we wanted. But it will do.”

“Do for what?” Sir Ethan asked before he could stop himself.

The orc snorted. “Human would not understand.”

“I have very little else to do but try to understand.”

That reply earned him a long, distrustful look from the orc, and Sir Ethan was worried for a moment that he had crossed a line. However, the orc finally replied, “You speak true. Very well.” He straightened up and swept an arm towards the east, where a thin crescent moon was just becoming visible over the mountains. “Shamans receive sign from old gods. Blood must fall, so they can rise.”

Sir Ethan felt a new, colder chill than his previous one grip him. “Blood..?”

The orc grinned, showing off a mouth full of wide, sharp teeth. “Yes, little one, blood. Human blood. Human tribes made old gods weak by tearing up mountains, pulling down trees, ripping open earth... so they slept.” Sir Ethan glanced around: as this orc had been talking to him, others had assembled nearby, just close enough to be seen. And there were _lots_ of them gathered. “Now they are rested. But they need proof that we will serve. Shamans say death of human tribe chief will do. Or one of his kin.”

_They were out to kill Prince Mark,_ Sir Ethan realized. _And if I’m not their first pick… that means he got away!_ He cleared his throat before speaking. “So it’s the King or the Prince, then..?”

“Yes. Without them, tribe falls apart. Though tribe looks like it has already started to collapse.”

“What do you mean..?”

He snorted again. “The humans in the woods. They think they’ve hidden their tribe. But we know. They go first. Then we march on the chief. His blood soaks the earth, and the old gods will rise up.” He pounded his fist against his chest, his next words coming out as a shout that rung through the area and even echoed in the distance. “And then orcs rise as well!”

All around them came roars of approval, and dull thuds of fists or weapons connecting with the many bodies all around the camp, like a roll of thunder from a storm that’s right over one’s head. Sir Ethan backed into the tree at this almost feral-sounding reaction to their leader’s words, and the orc standing before him started barking out laughter in response.

After the raucous shouts and banging finally calmed down, the orc leaned in towards the young knight again. “However… all human blood will feed our gods.” He leered down at him, those sharp teeth bared once more. “So you will have honor of being dawn’s sacrifice.”

“Wait, _what_?” Sir Ethan squirmed as the orc turned away from him. “You don’t want to sacrifice me-”

“All blood feeds old ones. Yours will as well. Sleep again, human.” The orc started to walk away as he spoke again. “Perhaps I make you my new mask.”

Sir Ethan retched a little at the thought of that, and found himself alone as the rest of the orcs moved away from him. He settled his back against the tree, making sure that his left hand was still in the loop of rope that had been so loosely tied around it. He meant to watch as carefully as he could to figure out if there were any patterns to guard patrols, or if he could find any weak points in the camp’s perimeter.

Despite this plan, his thoughts kept wandering back to the prince and Sir Tyler. The prince because- well, it was his duty to worry about the prince, wasn’t it? Though at the same time, Prince Mark was really a rather decent man when he wasn’t wound up about something or another. _Pity that he’s wound up all the time right now,_ he thought sardonically as he heard gates open somewhere behind him. 

Sir Tyler, on the other hand, he was genuinely concerned for. The other knight had vouched for Sir Ethan when he came to the barracks to request entry into the squires, with hopes of becoming a knight someday. Sir Tyler had been a squire at that time himself, and had happened past as Sir William was in the middle of dressing him down for “wasting his time reviewing a runt”. He had almost been ready to take off through the door, to run for home and to never even dream of being a knight again when Sir Tyler had interrupted. “Can’t hurt to see what the boy can do, sir,” were his exact words. Sir William had threatened him, had tossed out everything from stable and kitchen duty for the next year up to Sir Tyler being the next one thrown out of the barracks, but Sir Tyler hadn’t even flinched for a moment.

Sir William had reviewed him, tiny young man that he was, and had apparently been pleasantly surprised by his ability to always get his feet under him no matter the circumstances. He was brought into the squires training “on a trial basis” and had been working his way up the ranks since then.

And now that Sir Ethan thought about it, he was pretty sure he had never properly thanked Sir Tyler for his intervention on that day.

He tried to ignore the anxious knot in his stomach as he returned his focus to monitoring the camp. He watched as more orcs arrived, followed by a contingency of goblins hauling carts of weapons and supplies. _Goblins, too? This will be a nightmare,_ he thought. _As if orcs aren’t bad enough, they’re well armed orcs with those little psychopaths around._

It grew darker and later, and more and more of the two races retreated into tents. A chill settled into the air and ground, and Sir Ethan found that it was quite easy to stay awake with how cold he now felt. He watched as the guard patrols became more sparse and their timing less close together. He could only guess, but he had a feeling that they were as cold as he was and were lingering near the fires he could see flickering in the distance.

After he counted to twenty before he saw another patrol, he made up his mind and slipped his hand free of the rope.

He wasn’t going to have many more opportunities, and he had to try to get ahead of this force before they mobilized towards the kingdom. He had to make his escape before dawn arrived.

_I should try to find the Wylde Folk first, though,_ he thought. _If they’re going to attack there first, they at least deserve a warning so they can petition the King for shelter-_ He interrupted that thought to dwell on how stupid an idea that was, given the distrust and anger the King still carried for that group even thirty years after his failed attempt to force them into his domain. If that was their course of action, it would likely be easier and less painful for them to simply lay down like doormats for the combined might of the orcs and goblins to simply stomp over on their way to the gates of Lipier. _Still, though… they deserve a change to be informed, so they can arm themselves or figure out somewhere they can hide. Whichever they prefer. It’s not right to ignore a threat to people’s lives._

He counted to twenty again without seeing another patrol, and brought his hands around to his front so he could untie his right wrist. His shoulders screamed from being held back in the same position for unknown hours, but he ignored it as he scrambled to his feet and started for where the goblins and their carts had marched in.

This was his only chance. He had to do this right.

He sprinted as fast as he could, wincing to himself as he heard a shout behind him and the sound of thudding feet shortly after that. Arrows ripped past him, making the air sing with the way they cut through it. He saw torches ahead and felt icy cold fear, like a waterfall, surge down his spine. _I’m trapped,_ was his first thought.

_No._ He took a deep breath. _I have to get out._ He looked around, trying to ignore the rising noise around him, and saw exactly what he wanted: a tree with a low-hanging branch, close to the walls made of hewn logs . He ran as hard as he could towards it, lunging up as he got close enough. He just barely managed to catch it in his hands, hauling himself up and resenting his armor for the moment for its extra weight.

That was when one of the arrows found its way into the back of his leg, in a gap between his plate and the mail under it, and buried into his thigh. “Fuck-!” he swore aloud.

_Don’t stop, you can’t stop or you’re not getting out of here alive!_ he screamed at himself mentally, before jumping now for the wall. He caught it, but just barely, and fell down the other side. As soon as he could, he ran into the night, clutching his wounded thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we see what Ethan's been dealing with. Is he actually safe? I guess you're going to have to keep reading..!  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments!


	6. Heavy is the Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean is forced to rethink his approach.

Sean was internally fuming, in spite of his flippancy that he displayed in front of the Prince, as he finished climbing down through the trees and landed on the ground. He immediately started to walk towards the main road through the village, lifting his hood to keep the evening’s chill from his head and pulling his cloak tight around him. He needed to go talk to someone else about this situation, someone who could potentially offer a faster solution to the problem so he could be rid of the Prince as soon as possible, so he turned to head for the northeastern gate so he could head out into the woods and meet with them.

As he walked, he played the situation over and over again in his mind, and grew more upset every time at the Prince’s infuriating lack of appreciation for any part of it- from the ingracious attitude about Dan, Brian and Arin bringing him in from the woods, to his arrogance and dismissive tones he had taken with Sean. _Smug bastard probably told Dan off for what food I_ could _sneak up there without nearly killing myself,_ he mused angrily as he started through the gates, waving to one of the guards when they called a greeting. _Insufferable cock probably wanted roast beef and potatoes with gravy instead, and for me to climb back up with dessert and brandy too once he rang the little bell to signal the main bloody course was over..._

He headed off the established path and found the hidden one that he wanted without even really needing to focus on what he was doing. It really wasn’t a trick or anything at this point, since he had been walking it for so long now. That didn’t keep Arin from teasing him even now about being part elf since he could navigate the woods so well. He supposed that, from an outside point of view, someone as deep in thought as he was just disappearing effortlessly into the woods would come across as slightly alarming.

Despite his sour mood, the longer he passed through the trees the less wound up he felt. The air was cool but heavy with a variety of scents, from the smell of the pines he brushed against every now and then to the decay of leaves under his feet. He often wondered if that was the reason why the location he was heading towards had been picked, to force him to calm down by walking through such a peaceful place.

After a few more minutes walking, he came to a cave and entered it. Inside there was the warmth of a fire burning, and the smell of meat roasting, and Sean became acutely aware of how long it had been since he’d last eaten. He dropped his hood back and headed forward, further into the cave, and called out. “Hello, just me.”

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw two people looking back at him, a male elf and a female human. The woman immediately smiled and rose to her feet, walking over to greet him. “I hear you were inviting trouble to stay awhile,” she said while pressing a kiss to his cheek.

In spite of himself, he blushed at the intimate contact. “It’s really not all _that_ bad, Signe.”

“Not all that bad, he says,” countered the elf, who didn’t look up from the piece of wood he was carving. “For pity’s sake, you’re holding the only son of the crazed king who wants your village subjugated _hostage_ , Sean! Explain how that’s not ‘all that bad’.”

“It’s an opportunity,” Sean replied, feeling that hot anger start to bubble up again. “And if Dan, Arin and Brian hadn’t brought him in, he could have died this night in the woods.”

“Kidnapping with good intentions is still kidnapping.”

Sean rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. “You’re being insanely frustrating, Robin. I hope you know that.”

Finally the elf looked up. “Someone needs to make you be thinking things through.”

Sean started to reply but Signe interrupted. “You two, honestly. Enough. -Have you had dinner yet, Sean?”

“No. I was just coming off duty when they arrived with the Prince and I… sort of forgot.”

She smacked his upper arm lightly. “You’re hopeless. Sit, I’ll get some food together for you. It’s pheasant on the fire, and I traded with some halflings for carrots and butter, so I can get those cooking too.”

“That sounds amazing, honestly.” He went to take a seat by the fire, taking off his cloak and setting it aside as he started to warm up, and watched as Signe sliced up carrots and melted butter in a pan before she tossed the carrots in and added some spices. After a few minutes the sweet smell of pan-roasted carrots joined the smell of the pheasant, and Sean felt like he was going to drown in his own drool. Signe came over just in time, though, with a few thick slices of bread that were all spread with butter, and he began rapidly eating those to try and quell his hunger.

Finally, Signe came over with a plate, which Sean took and immediately started tucking into. She joined him a moment later with her own, though eating far more slowly and neatly. Once they were both full, she took the plates and set them aside before looking at Sean. “So tell me everything about what happened.”

So he began telling the whole story over once more, giving every detail as he did. He watched as Signe’s face grew more concerned and serious as he went out with the tale, and started to wonder what she could be thinking about that would make her look that way. _I mean, she has all right to be concerned since we’re holding the Prince hostage,_ he thought after a moment. _But it still feels like more than that…_

He finished telling her everything and kept watching her. After a long moment, she finally spoke. “I must admit to being worried about this.”

“Don’t worry, there’s no way that he could get away, or that the King’s forces could find-”

“I don’t mean about him escaping.” She rose to her feet. “You say you’re seeing this as an opportunity, Sean, but you’re only seeing one side of a coin.”

He arched an eyebrow at that. “And by that you mean…?”

“He came to you unconscious and injured. You immediately treated him as a threat, rather than someone to be helped.” She held up a hand as Sean started to protest. “Let me finish. You see him as a menace, but he only knows what he was taught, which was how to be a prince under the King who tried to force our home into a land we claimed no part of. There is good to be found in all men, if they are just given the chance.” She poked him in the chest, hard enough that Sean brought a hand up to rub the spot. “But the chance must be given. Do you understand?”

“Maybe, but… he didn’t give me much of a chance either.”

“Sean, for the love of all things-” She sighed. “You try coming to all tied up and feel like making nice.”

“Boundaries had to be put in place-”

“You call lying and titling yourself prince as well is setting up boundaries?” She let out a short, sharp laugh. “Sean, all you’ve done is cause needless friction. And that has to be righted, or else we’ll see another thirty years of pointless fear and anger.”

“How am I supposed to change his mind?” He got to his feet, frustrated all over again. “You have stronger magic than anyone else in the village, Signe. Can’t you just… I don’t know, cast a spell on him to make him agree to do what I say?”

Signe gave him such a look that he immediately regretted the suggestion. “That is dark magic, Sean, and you know as well as anyone else I would _never_ learn dark magic! Not for anything, or anyone!”

“I’m sorry,” he managed to spit out under her glare. “I didn’t think-”

“You’re damned right you didn’t,” she countered, but she was clearly starting to lose steam. He reached down and was immediately relieved when she took his hand, before he pulled her up into a hug.

“I really am sorry, Signe,” he mumbled into her shoulder as she put her arms around him. “That was absolutely ass of me to suggest.”

“It’s all right.”

_No, it’s not,_ he thought, tightening his grip around her. “I’m still sorry for saying it, though.” He kissed her cheek before letting go of her. “I should get back. I want to check on the guest before I get some sleep, and I have early watch.”

“Of course. Robin will walk me back once we’re done, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded at that. “Sounds good. Good night, Robin. Good night, Signe.”

They both called their goodbyes as he put his cloak back on and headed out of the cave. Now away from the fire and the warmth of Signe against him, the night seemed that much colder. He hurried through the woods, grateful for the little moonlight shining down to keep his path somewhat lit as he pulled his cloak tight around him. It was still slow going, though, and it was later than he would have preferred before he finally came through the gate into the village. He stuck his fist into his mouth to stifle a yawn as he turned towards the tree fort where he’d left Danny and Prince Mark. _Quick check, then I sleep,_ he decided, starting to climb up the tree next to the fort. He shimmied up the tree easily before carefully leaping from a branch to the platform around the fort, and then slipping inside.

Danny had been relieved at some point by Brian, whose eyes peering out from all black clothing nearly scared Sean clear out of his skin when he caught them in the dark. On the floor, Prince Mark lay sound asleep, hands now tied in front and tucked under his head to act as a substitute for a pillow.

_Try to look at him with some compassion,_ he could hear Signe say within his mind. So he stopped with a sigh and crouched to take a better look.

The man before him was filthy, and looked exhausted even as he was asleep. There was some rope burn around his wrists, and his hair was still matted with now-dried blood from his injury.

_Damn… if this was one of ours, in the dungeons back at his palace, I’d be absolutely screaming mad at the way they were being treated,_ he realized. He ran a hand over his hair before looking at Brian. “Will you be here at dawn?”

The man nodded.

“I’m going to bring up some clean clothes and the things he’ll need to wash up, as well as food for him,” Sean said. “And when he wakes up, he’s to be untied.”

Brian gave him a cynical look, though staying silent as he always did.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s what I meant to say.” Sean rubbed under his nose. “If he’s here for a while, and we want him to potentially cooperate with us, then we need him to be treated well. We’ll still keep him up here, though, so the elders don’t spot him. Okay?”

Brian shrugged, but then nodded.

“I’m glad that we’re on the same page. -I’ll see you in the morning.” He headed out the door, fairly certain that Brian was probably making an inappropriate gesture at his back, and climbed down. As soon as he was on the ground, he made his way to his home and immediately climbed into bed with everything but his cloak and boots still on, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look it's Robin and Signe! We'll get back to Ethan's predicament here soon. First though, we'll be going back to the palace and check on Duchess Amy and oh hey is that Wade and Bob on the horizon too..?


	7. The Quiet Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone has to make the first move.

Sir Tyler fidgeted as he waited at the gated entrance to the stately home he had been invited to, peeking through every so often to see if the butler who had taken the letter was returning before looking back up at a sky that was awash with the fiery colors of sunset.

It had now been a full day of Prince Mark missing. The King was reportedly livid and had banned word of this making its way out of the palace. Sir William had spent the entire day locked in his office to document everything that had happened on the ride and, when Sir Tyler had seen him that morning to give his formal report on the Prince disappearing, looked exhausted and stressed. The Prince’s horse, as well as Sir Ethan’s, had both returned to the gates riderless: this had made Sir Tyler even more anxious, since now he was worrying about both his prince and one of his closest friends.

And then there was the matter of the letter that had brought him here. He’d only just been given permission from the healer to leave the medical rooms, but with firm reminders that he was to still have time to rest- no armoring up, no riding, no heavy physical activity- when the servant arrived with the letter. He hadn’t held paper half that fine in years, not since he’d received his formal notice of knighthood. The Duchess Amy had requested his presence at an evening of cards, at the house of a Lord Robert. So he got himself dressed as nicely as one could with his meager wardrobe, and left the barracks after dinner to head to the Lord’s home.

Finally the butler returned and unlocked the gate, holding it open for Sir Tyler as he left himself inside. “This way,” the man intoned softly as he locked the gate once more, before leading the way into the home. Sir Tyler looked all around as he was ushered into a huge, ornate hallway, a plush ruby colored carpet under his feet and walls paneled in carved, honey-colored wood that reflected the candlelight from the sconces and chandelier to make the room feel warm. He followed the butler up the stairs and down a hallway where a variety of paintings were hung, finally being let into a room where two men and the Duchess Amy were seated at a table. Thick tapestries hung on all four walls, and Sir Tyler realized that it felt much quieter and stiller in this room than the rest of the home. The butler bowed once to the group before slipping out the door, closing it behind him.

Sir Tyler, a knight who had just two days earlier had bested a group of orcs even though they caught him by surprise, now felt more intimidated than he ever had before in his short life. He bowed, and spoke as he did. “Good evening, lords and lady. Thank you for the invitation.”

“You’re very welcome, Sir Tyler.” Duchess Amy smiled gently at him as he looked up. “Please, rise. May I introduce you to Lord Wade, and Lord Robert?”

Sir Tyler walked over to the table and put his hands out to shake. The leaner man immediately reached for his hand and shook it firmly. “Pleasure to meet you, Sir Tyler.”

“Thank you, Lord Wade, but the pleasure is all mine.” He then turned to the other man, who was smiling like he had just remembered some private joke. “And you as well, Lord Robert.”

“Please,” the lord said as he reached to shake Sir Tyler’s hand, “I go by Bob.”

_That’s… awfully familiar,_ Sir Tyler thought, but said, “Lord Bob then. You have a beautiful home, sir.”

“Thank you. Please, have a seat.” Sir Tyler sat down in the empty chair next to Duchess Amy, and realized that there were no cards on the table. He frowned and glanced at Duchess Amy.

“I was worried that if Lord Bob or Lord Wade sent the notice you would not attend, and I wanted something fairly innocent sounding,” she said with a small, sheepish grin. “I brought you here to discuss Prince Mark’s disappearance.”

“I’m not sure what good you think I will end up being, my lady,” he replied. “I looked for as long as I could after I had fought off the orcs, and had no luck.”

“He fought off orcs? As in more than _one_?!” Lord Wade immediately looked at the duchess. “You didn’t mention that part. What kind of knight are you?”

“A very lucky one, I think.”

Lord Bob laughed. “I like him!”

“Regardless, gentlemen, we needn’t intimidate him.” The duchess looked at him, and Sir Tyler suddenly felt more nervous than he already had. “I believe he’s our best bet to finding Prince Mark alive.”

“My apologies, Duchess Amy, but… why me?”

“Because you are one of the few knights I have met who actually adheres to your code of honor, for one, and because you seem to genuinely care about the Prince’s well-being,” she replied. “And because I have reason to believe that the efforts to find Prince Mark may be sabotaged.”

“How so?” Lord Bob leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

“I overheard Prince Damien in Sir William’s office, last evening. I was on my way to meet Sir Tyler after I received word that the Prince and one of his knights were missing, and that the other had returned wounded. Prince Damien seemed to be threatening Sir William over the prospect of the search for the Prince. If nothing else, I heard him say that he needed to know absolutely everything about the planning and execution of it.”

“Sir William’s barely set foot out of his office today,” Sir Tyler chimed in, before he realized what he was doing. “And he’s not even made any announcements yet about searching for Prince Mark. And on top of all that, Prince Mark’s and Sir Ethan’s horses both returned today, which means both of them are without their mounts. So if they’re injured and unable to move-” He stopped, to allow himself a chance to will the knot out of his throat. _I shouldn’t have told them to run,_ he thought for the millionth time. He swallowed hard before continuing. “We should have been sent out at this point. I don’t know if there’s protocol for this sort of thing, but it just _feels_ like we should have rode out to look for even signs of either of them at this point.”

The two lords looked between each other, and Lord Wade was the first to speak. “I see now why you invited him,” he said, directing that towards Duchess Amy. Then he looked at Sir Tyler. “We agree with you, all three of us. And we want to see Prince Mark brought home, as well as Sir Ethan. Whatever is going on, Sir William seems to be compromised. We’ve already planned on Duchess Amy going to speak to Sir William tomorrow morning, and make a push to get _something_ going in terms of searching for Prince Mark and your fellow knight. We figure that she has the best chance at forcing your commander’s hand since she is betrothed to the Prince.”

Duchess Amy laughed softly. “On the grounds that I would have a large stake in whether or not Prince Mark returns in good health, since anything otherwise could compromise my future marriage and happiness.”

Lord Wade nodded at that, before he continued. “Lord Bob and I have some associates who are trying to sniff out some information for us as well, from outside the palace.”

Sir Tyler gave the lord a long look. “What kind of associates..?”

“My family has owned land outside the city walls to rent to farmers for generations now,” Lord Wade said sharply. “My estates have easily forty families working them now, and many of them are willing to keep an ear and eye out for me.”

Lord Bob chuckled again. “They don’t call him Lord Minion for nothing.”

“No one other than you, Lord Robert,” replied the other lord, still sounding a little testy.

“And what about me?” Sir Tyler asked, wanting to break up the needling and feeling as though he’d caused a whole new problem now.

“I’m guessing that with your injury, you won’t be sent out.” This came from Lord Bob, who had grown more grave with a surprising quickness. “Well… since Sir William seems distracted, we were thinking that you would instead sneak out to look for Prince Mark and Sir Ethan.”

“Are you… entirely sure that’s wise?”

“It’s our best option at this point,” Duchess Amy replied.

“And since Sir William may be compromised, it may be our only chance to find them both before some awful fate can fall on either of them,” Lord Wade added.

Sir Tyler looked deeply thoughtful for a long moment, before he finally nodded. “Agreed. If I’m careful, I can sneak out tomorrow to start looking.”

“Good man.” Lord Bob looked around the table. “I think that just about wraps things up for the night. Lord Wade and I will be in touch with you both so that we’re all on the same page. Good night, and good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 7. We finally get Bob and Wade thrown into the mix!  
> Next up... did someone mention Damien?  
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments guys!


	8. Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Damien sets his own plans into motion.

Damien had been lingering in his hiding place outside the commander’s office with his men for a good hour now, waiting for that pretty little fiancee of his cousin’s to come back out. He had been hoping that she would just ignore the situation and allow herself to just be pulled along in the river of fate, but instead she had to be _invested_ in the matter. His hands tightened into fists at the thought that she actually had feelings for that dull, witless clown he was related to. Someone as charming, as subtly intelligent, as attractive as she was… well, she deserved someone like _him_ , not his cousin who didn’t even know how to talk to her about anything but his plans to conquer the Wylde Folk.

No matter. When Mark was gone, the pieces would all fall into place for him. The duchess would be his, the crown would be his, and soon the kingdom would be his as well. He just had to be patient. Everything would come in due time.

Finally, she emerged from the office, immediately heading for the gate that led into the wealthier parts of town. Damien cleared his throat and looked at two of his men. “You two. Get her and bring her to the palace. Gently, though. She’s our guest. I’ll speak to her when I’m done with Sir William.”

Both men bowed, before trailing after the duchess. Damien smirked to himself. He had handpicked mercenaries with tact and charm over those who swelled with muscles and little else. The work he needed them for required panache, and timing, and a sense of pacing. Each of the men in his employ had all of those traits in spades. He knew that the two would approach the Duchess with deference and politely inform her that she was needed at the palace. Once there, she would then be overpowered, taken into the dungeons, and locked up. That would keep her out of the way until he could change the way things were currently going to work in his favor.

He waited until the duchess and both of his men had disappeared from view, and walked over to the office door the woman had just slipped out of. Three sharp raps on the door later, Sir William came to the door with a grimace that hinted at dismay and dread.

Excellent.

Damien didn’t even let the man speak before he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “Sir William,” he said, making sure his voice was calm and soothing, “you look absolutely exhausted.”

“I would thank you for being observant, sir, but I’m too busy right now. What brings you here?”

Damien was almost surprised right out of his carefully focused mindset at how blunt and forward the commander was being. Sir William was usually too busy worrying about appearances to be so… _refreshingly_ honest.

This was a side of him that Damien found quite intriguing.

“I know what brought the duchess here just now,” he answered, making sure the door was locked. “And you are going to ignore that it was she who made the suggestion, and instead credit myself for the push to send soldiers afield.” He reached for his belt and removed his new favorite toy from the holster it was slid into for safekeeping, raising his arm level to his shoulder. He grinned as Sir William paled at the device. “Interesting, isn’t it? An inventor brought the idea before my uncle. To improve the military, he said. Uncle didn’t see the need, said that the crossbows all still worked just fine and that this would be a waste of perfectly good metal… but I saw the usefulness of it. I had him make this and its mate, and he’s now to make all the rounds I’ll ever need.” _Admittedly, he’ll be making them in the cell I threw him in, but Billy doesn’t need to know that,_ he thought to himself as he watched the commander’s Adam’s apple bob with a nervous swallow.

“I… understand, your highness,” he stammered out after a long moment, eyes kept locked on the weapon just inches from his face.

“Excellent. You’re getting smarter all the time, Sir William,” he replied coolly as he replaced his weapon at his hip. “I expect to see the stables empty come dawn. I will reporting on this to my uncle shortly.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Very good.” He smiled and put his hand out to shake. “Thank you so much for understanding my very deep concern for finding my dear cousin.”

Sir William shook his hand, his grip steady but his expression sickened, and immediately turned towards his desk as Damien left the office.

_He knows what I’m planning to do with the duchess. He hasn’t gotten this far, after all, by being stupid. But I have him in an iron grip right now. I can destroy his career, or I can make sure that he stays exactly where he is… as a gift for his loyalty and support in these trying times._ He smirked a little, waving for his men to follow as he started towards the palace gates. _Now to move on with the day._

He left his men to go into the dungeons with orders to check up on things, before heading up to the wing he shared with his father. He went into his rooms first, tidying himself up and making sure that he had what he needed for the rest of his day. As he left the room, he slid his hands into the pair of black leather gloves that he had picked up from his dressing table.

He only had this one chance to do what he was about to accomplish, after all, and he wasn’t about to waste it.

He walked into his father’s rooms without knocking, as he had for the last six years since his mother passed away. His mother had always been the one to insist upon the practice. When Damien had been younger, he had just assumed it was proper manners, but upon her death he had learned the truth of the matter: his mother had been teaching herself the dark magics, but since she had never learned even the basics of magic before trying to master the powers of the dark it had claimed her life in exchange for her knowledge.

His father, as far as Damien was aware, had never figured out what took his wife away and had spent the last six years wasting away in his rooms. He now only emerged for official state functions and to advise the King on various matters, since Prince James spent all his days reading up on the surrounding nations and corresponding with their diplomats and scholars to make sure he understood them completely. One of the few times that they had spoken to each other in the last few months, Prince James had put a hand on Damien’s shoulder and told him that this would be his role when Prince Mark assumed the throne.

Damien had said nothing in response, but if he had it would have been a very clear statement of how he did not plan to be the one advising the throne, but the one seated in it.

He rounded the corner into his father’s study and grinned at how perfect it all was. His father was dozing next to the fire, a cup of tea and a teapot on the table next to him. He opened the vial he’d taken from his own room, and poured in into the cup before pouring more tea into the cup. Once he was satisfied that was ready, he removed the gloves and gently shook the other man’s shoulder. “Father?”

“Hmph?” He blinked rapidly, smiling gently once he realized who was waking him up. “Damien! Wasn’t expecting to see you today. What brings you in?”

“I need an excuse to visit you now?” He made himself smile in the same way his father was: affectionate, slightly dazed, lost in thought.

“No, no, of course not, but you always seem so busy nowadays.”

“I have been working on finding out where my dear cousin has gotten to.”

“Oh, yes. One of the servants informed me of that. Any updates?”

“One of the knights who rode out with him has returned, but the other and Prince Mark are both still missing.” He took a seat in the chair across from his father. “You ought to drink your tea before it goes cold.”

“Oh?” He glanced at the table. “Oh, yes, of course. I must have dozed off after the first sip.”

“If you got more fresh air, you might not doze off all the time.” Damien made sure to sound mildly scolding, despite the fact that his father never leaving his rooms had never even started to bother him at any point in the last six years.

“I know, I know. I should try to be better.” He picked up the tea cup and took a long gulp from it, then grimaced. “Ugh. Must have steeped too long. It’s rather bitter.”

“Would you like me to get a fresh pot for you?”

“Well, if you would like to, I wouldn’t say no to it. I’ll just finish what I have while you’re gone.”

Damien smiled, trying so hard to not let it turn into a smirk. “Of course. I’ll just go ring the servant.”

He went to the door and waited. After a few moments, there was a terrible gagging noise, followed by a stringing of choked coughing… and then, the sound of a body hitting the floor. He walked back over and looked down at the corpse of his father: blood-flecked spittle covered his lips and the palm of one hand, and his eyes open wider than Damien had seen them in years. A horrified, stricken expression was on his face. Damien just grinned to himself and dropped the vial into the fireplace, at the edge of the smoldering coals. He then took a deep breath to calm himself down, before going to frantically yank on the call bell for a servant while screaming wordlessly.

After a few minutes, there was a stampede of feet coming his way. His father’s butler led the way through the door and turned a startled look in his direction.

“My father-” he gasped, hoarsely, even summoning some tears to his eyes. “Please- something’s happened- I came in and found him like this-”

“I’ll see to it that this is addressed, your highness,” the older man replied. “I will come report to you shortly. Please go and calm yourself.”

“Yes- yes, of course. I’m sure he’s fine, just… he’s fine.” Even he was amazed at his own acting, how perfectly flustered and upset he sounded. “Please find me as soon as you know how he’s doing.”

He was quickly ushered out the door, and he kept up the act as more servants were coming to the room: _I wonder if they wish to help, or if they mean to eavesdrop..?_ he thought as he pushed through, murmuring unfelt apologies as he got through the crowd and retreated into his own rooms.

Now for the last part of his plan, and he could only hope that he would have timed everything right. After a few minutes, he made his way to the throne room and announced himself to his uncle.

“Nephew,” the King said as he walked forward, “what news?”

“First, I should let you know that my father has fallen ill.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is he attended to?”

“I notified his butler when I found him in his chambers. The matter should be addressed by now. At least, I hope for that much.”

The King nodded. “Of course, of course. His butler is a good man from what I know; he should be in good hands. Anything else? I received word that you were meeting with Sir William earlier.”

“Yes. I wanted to give him the push to send the knights out to seek his highness Prince Mark and their missing brother in arms. Sir William was trying to be too thorough and look too far out. That was the other reason why I went to visit my father; Sir William was worried about this being a matter of border expansion that had gone unreported from our outposts.”

“I was wondering why no one had ridden out yet,” the King said softly. He leaned back and gave Damien a long look. “I am glad to hear of this, though. If he is not found within another day, we will give Sir William the order to check the boundaries of the kingdom.”

Damien had almost stopped listening when his uncle said “we” instead of “I”. He had played his cards perfectly: the King was starting to see him as part of the inner circle, one who could be trusted to take some of the duties of leadership and ruling off of him. He started to reply, but they were interrupted by his father’s butler banging the door open and hurrying in.

“My sincerest apologies, your majesty and your highness,” he said, voice shaking. “I just- I- sire, your brother Prince James has died.” Damien covered his mouth with one hand, making sure he looked stricken. “We have reason to believe one of the kitchen staff may have poisoned him. One of the palace guard found a small vial in the fireplace, and he had a pot of tea at his side that smelled of faintweed.”

“Faintweed?” The King grimaced. “That’s an awful way to go. Prince Damien: go and interview all the kitchen staff. Find who made that tea. Make sure they are imprisoned for their crimes. We will discuss how to deal with them after Prince Mark is found.”

“Of course, Uncle.” He turned to leave, but the King cleared his throat and he looked at his uncle again. “Yes?”

“Dine with me tonight, nephew. I believe we still have more to discuss.”

_It’s all happening now, exactly how I planned for it to._ He nodded slightly. “Of course, sire. We will need to plan for my father’s funeral, after all.”

“That and more, I fear. But for now, you are dismissed.”

“Yes, Uncle.” He headed out into the hallway, not stopping until he knew he was somewhere relatively private, and it was only then that he finally grinned.

Everything was, for the moment, completely under his control.

And damned if that didn’t feel _so_ good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus this turned into a long chapter! And yes the title is a nod to "Emperor's New Clothes".  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments!


	9. Faded Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having escaped from the orcs, Sir Ethan must now try to survive getting out of the woods alive.

He had been limping downhill all day at this point.

Ethan had pulled the arrow out hours ago and field triaged himself as best he could with a couple of strips of fabric he’d torn from the bottom of his tunic and a stick to tourniquet the wound in his thigh, but it made for even slower going than he already had been going at. He just focused on going from tree to tree for support, trying to check every so often for the direction of the sun to make sure he kept aiming roughly southeast.

Of course, he was just hoping that was the right way to be heading. The blood loss and fatigue was making every thought in his mind feel slippery, as though as soon as he mentally put his hands out to process it better it would duck back into the shadows and evade him completely. After the first few tries to chase them down, he gave up on wasting his energy that way, and instead focused on watching his feet and checking the directions of the shadows.

As he navigated a particularly steep stretch, his mind wandered to the fates of the Prince and Sir Tyler once more. _What if I’m the only one to return alive?_ he suddenly fretted. _What will they say of me? I’m the only one who can vouch for Sir Tyler sending me after the Prince, or that I told Prince Mark to keep riding without me so I could defend him! I could hang for their murders, because no one other than me would know or trust that I’m truly innocent!_

His stomach rolled and pitched at that, and he dropped to all fours to dry heave. When that had passed, he dropped onto one side, arms wrapped around his stomach as he then rolled onto his back to look up at the darkening sky overhead. He was suddenly, pointedly aware of the lack of food in his day as he was finally still and not dedicating all his energy to walking down the mountain.

_And what if_ I _don’t return, either?_ he then thought. _What if all this dies with me, on the side of this mountain?_

“No,” he moaned. “I’m not dying here.”

_I don’t know that for certain._

“Shut up!” He pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead. “And now I’m fighting myself. Great. I’ve gone insane.”

He lowered his hands and just laid there, looking up through the branches at the first stars to peek out of the darkness. The warmth of the day began to disappear from the air, and all around him the forest began to switch from the day song of birds to the evening chorus of insects and a distant owl. He closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to feel the fatigue and pain that he had been ignoring all day.

“So now what,” he said aloud, his eyes still closed. “I can’t keep laying here-” He was interrupted by a scream nearby, causing his eyes to snap open. 

He’d heard stories from his grandfather, who had worked in the woods as a young man as a logger until an accident took his left arm. In the night, mountain lions would roam the woods, looking for easy prey, and they would scream like a woman in distress when they drew close so they could disorient their target. He scrambled to his feet, groaning as he put weight on his injured leg. As soon as he had his balance, though, he was running, aiming for the downward slope and hoping that he would break into a clearing or a field where the animal would have no sort of upward advantage from trees or cliffs.

He made his way down the hill in this fashion, his mind screaming a steady rhythm of _run run run run run run_ as he went, fairly successfully for a few minutes, until a patch of loose soil slid under his feet and sent him rolling. He let out a panicked yell as he rolled over a steep embankment, dropping easily ten or so feet to the ground below and hitting so hard that the air was knocked from his lungs. He lay there, trying to get his wind back and listening as hard as he could for some sign that the mountain lion had chased after him.

“Stupid,” he wheezed, as the throb began in his leg again and a new ache started in his back from landing so hard with his armor on. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. You could have been smart about this but you panicked like a baby and ran. Stupid!”

He tried to roll onto his side, but his body refused to cooperate and made its refusal known through a stronger burst of pain between his shoulder blades. He hissed aloud and returned to laying on his back, staring up at the stars once more. Now that he wasn’t gasping or talking to himself, he could hear water nearby. He turned his head to the left and noticed for the first time, a few feet away, a small but very active river running past him.

“Must be deeper than it is wide to make that much noise,” he mumbled to himself. “And that explains the drop.” He closed his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion.

_Need to get up,_ he thought, in as scolding a fashion as his inner monologue could get in the circumstances.

“Tried that already,” he answered after a long moment.

_You keep laying there, you’ll give up. You_ need _to get up!_

“I can’t.” Everything that involved moving muscles- talking, opening his eyes, getting to his feet again and walking- seemed impossible at the moment. It was like trying to swim through tar to even muster the energy to move his mouth and tongue in order to counter his own mind. “I’ve been trying all day. I hurt, and I’m tired, and I’m hungry and dehydrated. All I want to do is rest.”

_And what if that mountain lion finds you? Or the orcs and goblins?_

He opened his eyes briefly at that, before smiling weakly. “Just as long as they don’t wake me up, I don’t care. I really don’t.”

With that last retort, his world slipped into blackness.

* * * * *

The next thing he was aware of was a weight on his chest, and something chittering incessantly at him. He slowly got one eye open to try and figure out what was going on.

There was a small, round raccoon, perched atop his chestplate. When it made eye contact with him, it sat up on its haunches and let out three loud, short chirps before looking around expectantly.

“Go away,” he muttered once he finally figured out how to get his mouth working again.

To his complete surprise, the raccoon actually shook its head at him and barked out those three chirps again.

“What… are you?”

He watched as the raccoon tilted its head at the question, before it actually gestured to the “mask” around its eyes and then waved its forepaws up and down at its body.

“I’m either hallucinating or you’ve escaped from the circus. I’d like to establish which of those is happening.”

The raccoon actually appeared to roll its eyes, before jumping off his chest and loping towards the river. He rolled his head to watch it as it stopped on the embankment and slapped the water a few times while chattering at it in the angriest way imaginable.

_Maybe it’s ill,_ he thought. His grandfather had also told him of a disease that animals sometimes contracted from each other, which led them to act completely out of character. The raccoon trotted back over and he tried to check its mouth for foam. There was none. _Hallucination it is._

The raccoon did not return to its perch on his chest. Instead, it sat down next to his right hand and batted at his thumb until he rotated his hand to get it out of the animal’s reach. It then moved over to the other hand and repeated the action.

“Cut it out,” he grumbled in response as he once again hid his thumb under his hand. Everything was starting to feel fuzzy and distant again, and there were gray tendrils on the edges of his vision.

The raccoon let out what he could only describe as a worried chirp, and hopped back onto his chest, its paws on his cheeks. It began patting one cheek as his eyes started to slide closed.

“Sorry imaginary raccoon, I can’t stay awake any more.” He was nearly completely unconscious when he felt hands under his arms, dragging him along. He could hear the river getting louder. He tried to make some form of words come out but instead he just made a confused noise.

“Don’t worry,” a female voice said. “You aren’t coming to any harm.”

_It’s a girl raccoon,_ he thought as he tried to force upon his eyes, only to be blinded by a flaring light over him.

“Shh now. You just rest.”

_If you say so, hallucinated girl raccoon,_ he mentally answered before shutting his eyes again and allowing unconsciousness to reclaim him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I'm sorry!! I'm going to try to get a second one up tonight to make up for it. After all, we need to catch up with Prince Mark and Sean...  
> Thank you to everyone who's left a comment or kudos. They mean so much to me!


	10. A Change of Hearts and Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to sit down and have a talk.

Prince Mark awoke to someone talking quietly in the same room as him, and opened his eyes slowly. Much like the previous morning, he went through assessing the situation before he started to move around much more than that.

Today, however, things were different. He wasn’t tied up any longer for starters, at his wrists or ankles. He cautiously sat up at realizing this, rubbing at his wrists and finding they were covered with bandages. There was a faint smell he recognized as hunter’s balm, a plant that grew wild on the woods around the kingdom. One of his tutors had taught him to know how to identify it from its dark green leaves with red at the tips, and how to make it into a poultice to apply to cuts and scrapes to keep them from becoming infected. He looked up to see who was there, half-expecting it to be Dan again.

“Top of the morning to you, laddy.” Standing next to the door was the young man from yesterday, Prince Sean, though today he looked much less hostile than he had previously. Prince Mark wasn’t sure if he should feel optimistic or paranoid. “I brought up some supplies for you.” He gestured towards the table, where there was food, some clothes folded up into a stack, and a bowl. Prince Mark slowly stood up and realized there was soap, a rag and a small towel next to the bowl. “Thought you might like a chance to scrub up and change out of those clothes. Nothing nearly as fine as what you’re used to, I’m sure, but… I hope it helps.”

“Thank you,” he replied after a long moment. “It’s appreciated.” He held his hands up. “Is this..?”

“My doing too, yeah. Brian never gets the ratios right when blending hunter’s balm.” He grinned a little, and Prince Mark realized the other man was nervous. “I’ll step out while you’re washing up. Let me know when you’re done, and I can answer any questions you have while you eat.”

“...questions about what, exactly?”

“Anything and everything, as far as I’m capable of answering,” he replied with a shrug, before stepping out the door and leaving Prince Mark by himself for the first time in the last two days.

After a moment of staring at the door in confusion, he shrugged and undressed so he could wash himself all over as best he could, even scrubbing the crusted blood from his hair, before dumping the rest of the bowl of water over himself to rinse off. Shivering faintly, he dried himself off as best he could with the small towel before dressing in the clean clothes left out for him. Running his fingers through his damp hair, he opened the door again to find the other man sitting with his back against the wall, eyes closed. “I’m proper.”

“I doubt it.” He looked up with a grin at the prince before getting to his feet and following him inside the treefort. “Look at how wet you still are, man. You want help with that?”

“How are you going to help? The towel’s soaked through at this point.”

“Like this.” He exhaled slowly before pulling one hand upward. Prince Mark stood stock still as he felt the water droplets still clinging to his skin and hair lift away, as well as the puddle on the floor where he had rinsed himself off, and gather into an orb of water in the air. He then moved his other hand in a pushing motion towards the bowl on the table, and the orb dropped into the bowl without a drop even splashing out.

“That’s… that’s incredible!” Prince Mark looked from the bowl to Sean.

“Heh. Just something I picked up. If you know the right people in the woods here, you can learn to attune to the magic around you. I’m not even that good, honestly.”

“It looked like you did pretty damn good to me.” He watched as the other man ducked his head and looked away, so he changed the subject. “So… you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yeah. Here, get yourself some breakfast together first. We’ll sit outside if you like.”

“I’d… actually really like that, yeah.” He watched as he went out the door before he put together his food - bread and cheese again, and some slices of bacon, and some fruit, along with another skin of water and that same wooden plate. He put his meal together and stepped outside the door, blinking in the sunlight again as he moved to sit down with his back against the wall and next to the other young man. He took a few minutes to put some food into himself before he spoke again. “It’s nice out today.”

“That it is.” He pointed to the left. “Village’s down there, by the way.”

He looked down in that direction. There were a handful of buildings, all made of wood, surrounded by walls made of wooden logs. Every so often he could see people walk between them, everyone of them dressed in shades of green and brown. “...is everyone in camouflage?”

“Yeah. The elders require it. Makes it so we can disappear into the trees easier if the King’s…” Prince Mark looked over at Sean as his voice trailed off. The other man looked embarrassed suddenly. “If harm comes our way and we need to get out.”

“You don’t have weapons?”

“We don’t have metal enough to make weapons for everyone and the tools we need to survive.” He shrugged. “Given the choice between a sword and an axe, for the most part someone here will pick the axe. The only people who have metal weapons on them are me and my friend Arin, and that’s only because Arin’s father crafted them for us as gifts with metal from the dwarves’ mine.”

Prince Mark sounded as dumbfounded as he looked. “That’s a dwarven dagger?”

Sean grinned a little. “Two of them, actually.”

“One of my teachers told me that the dwarven weapons are the best crafted of any ever created! How did you manage to get the metal?”

“Arin’s father _is_ a dwarf. That’s how.” He watched as the prince looked horrified for a moment, and fought the urge to snap something sarcastic at him.

“...my father told me that was impossible. A human and a non-human together, I mean.”

“Your father was misinformed, your highness.”

Sean watched as the prince looked out at the trees, expression confused but thoughtful, before he nodded. “I suppose he could have been.”

_Is he saying that because he’s starting to think all this over? Or is he just cooperating because he wants to keep this freedom I’ve given him?_ Sean tried to push the idea away, but it lingered in the back of his mind. “That’s the life everyone has had here, from those who were born here to those who’ve been here since the refusal.”

Prince Mark ate a few bites, still looking thoughtful. “Tell me why your village refused. I know what I’ve been told but… I want to hear it from your end.”

Sean blinked in surprise, before speaking. “Well… keep in mind, this is all second-hand knowledge for me. I’m going off what I was told by the people who were adults when it happened.” He looked out at the village, quiet for a moment. “Before the refusal, this was a much larger village called Brookshire, about two hundred strong. They had always free reign over themselves, welcomed visitors from your father’s kingdom as well as that of Alevon across the mountains… pretty much just managed themselves under the eye of a mayor who was elected every two years. Well, one night goblins come out of the woods, and attack the village with firebombs. Come morning, half of the buildings are burned down to nothing and we’ve lost people, livestock, crops… you name it. The mayor at the time rode out himself to request aid from your father. We thought he would be back within a day or two. It was actually two weeks. He came back scarred, half-starved, and furious. Your father completely refused aid unless Brookshire agreed to become part of the kingdom, and the mayor refused to concede because the village had never been beholden to a king and he wasn’t about to make them start. So he was imprisoned and beaten for ten days to try and make him change his mind.” He paused to look at the prince, who was still staring out at the trees. “On the tenth day, the commander of the royal guard came to his cell and unlocked the door, but told him they would be keeping his horse and his weapons as a ‘fee’ for wasting the king’s time. He had to walk home with his injuries. By the time he returned, he was nearly delirious with fever and exhaustion.”

Prince Mark made a soft noise, but did not actually speak, at that.

“He lived long enough to tell everyone what had happened to him. Three days later he was dead from the infection that had started in the dungeons of your father’s palace. A new mayor was elected, and the decision was made for Brookshire to disappear. Homes and farms were dismantled and snuck deep into the woods, rebuilt as best they could be among the trees and with only wood so as to blend in. Walls were built once all the homes and farming space were accounted for, as well as treeforts such as this we’re sitting on for lookouts. Within a week of the previous mayor’s return, the old site of Brookshire was nothing but dead grass, dirt paths and rock walls.”

“...which is when my father decided that if he couldn’t have your people, he’d make your lives hell.” Sean almost started at Prince Mark speaking up, since the prince had been quiet now for so long. The prince looked at him, before looking away. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“Ah… it’s no problem, really.” He looked in the direction the prince was, and realized for the first time that in the distance the topmost towers of the king’s palace could be seen, just standing out against the sky. He was a little surprised that he had never spotted that before, with all the times that he had been up at this lookout. _But then again, I wouldn’t be looking for the palace itself. I’d be scanning for troops on the move._ “But that is right. Suppliers who were shown the way to the new location disappeared or showed up with their carts destroyed. Anyone who tried to leave the village to go to other places we’d traded with previously were captured and whipped, their goods stolen, and sent back to us. Livestock was run off. To top it all off, winter arrived early and hit harder that year than it had for as far back as even the oldest among us could remember. That was when we first met the _real_ Wylde Folk. The trees and dryads had been passing along word of us, so most of them were at least aware of us. When the halflings caught word that we were nearly starving, they came to us and brought what they could spare to try and help us along. After that, the dwarves came to supply us with tools, and then the elves with clothing and medicine. We owed our survival to them after that winter… so we began trading exclusively with them. And that’s the story of how we’ve managed this long, without interacting with the outside world.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, that got away from me a bit. Sometimes I don’t know when to just shut up.”

“No, I don’t mind. It was… enlightening.”

“Do you have any questions about… well, anything?”

“Not right now. But… I would like to apologize.” Sean gave him a surprised look and he smiled weakly. “You and your friends saved my life, and I treated you terribly for it. So I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t exactly giving you a fair shake, either. And I sort of lied about being a prince. That’s just a silly nickname some of the folks here have given me. So I’m sorry too.” He held a hand out to the prince, and grinned as he reached over and shook it.

“...so now what?”

“I don’t know, really. I mean, you at least know our half of things now. Which I think is all I really wanted. We’re not bandits or rebels or whatever. We just want to be left alone and allowed to do things the way we always have.”

Prince Mark frowned at that. “I don’t know that I could change my father’s mind when it comes to that. He’s been determined to be the winner in this fight since your village ‘rebelled’.”

“Maybe it’s not his mind that I’m worried about changing.” He watched as realization dawned on the other man’s face and couldn’t help the grin that came to his. “Your father won’t live forever, after all. Someday it’ll be up to you. And when it is… I just hope that you’ll remember this talk.”

Prince Mark looked deeply thoughtful for a long, quiet moment. “I hope I will too.”

“Thanks. That’s all I ask.” Sean slapped him in a friendly way on the shoulder before getting up. “I need to go run a patrol route. Sorry, but you’ll have to stay up here.”

“I actually don’t mind too much. The quiet’s a nice change.”

“I’ll see about getting you down tonight. Once it’s dark, we can head out to meet some of my friends.”

He grinned at that. “Sounds like fun.” He watched as Sean readied himself and then leapt into the branches of the tree next to the one the treefort was built in, immediately disappearing into the foliage. He then went back inside but left the door open, laying on the floor with his arms folded behind his head in the sunlight that was let in.

_Two days ago,_ he thought, _I was so sure that I knew exactly what kind of a king I wanted to be. Now, though… I can’t say I’m as certain of that any more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long boi! Would have gotten this up last night but AO3 crashed. The next chapter is going to be Sir Tyler riding out to try and find out what happened to Prince Mark and Sir Ethan. Woo!  
> Thanks everyone for the comments and kudos, I love seeing them!!


	11. A Path towards Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Tyler defies orders, and rides out in search of Prince Mark and Sir Ethan.

Warlord stomped the ground and whinnied nervously, shaking his head hard enough to make the tree his reins were tied to start to move as well. Sir Tyler looked up from where he was kneeling on the ground, rising to approach the horse and calm it. “I know, bud,” he said softly, stroking the stallion’s nose. “I don’t want to be back here either, but we have to be.”

The horse nickered in response, but settled again to stand by the tree. Sir Tyler smiled at it, before returning to the spot he had been investigating. Warlord had been skittish all morning, but he was also a very intuitive horse. _It’s almost as if he knew I wasn’t supposed to ride out with everyone,_ he thought, before reflecting on that morning’s events.

The horn to call all the knights to the gate had been blown this morning just after breakfast had ended, but a squire had been dispatched to him to tell him he was not to respond to the call, “due to his injury”... but there were other knights who shouldn’t have been sent out that were: the older, those with long-term injuries, those who were known to be less than trustworthy but had been kept on due to family favors or relationships with various members of the aristocracy, for example, were all dressing to ride out and jostling with the other, more able knights.

He wondered if Sir William knew about his night out with the duchess and the two lords, or if he thought he was “too close” to the matter since he had been out with Prince Mark and Sir Ethan.

Either way, Sir Tyler had already made up his mind about defying orders.

He snuck into the stables after everyone else went in, taking advantage of the chaos to saddle up Warlord. Due to the chill in the air, everyone else had heavy hooded cloaks on that obscured their faces, so he used this as an opportunity as well and brought his own up. After that, he moved into the middle of the group, looking down at Warlord’s neck and head as Sir William addressed them all from the wooden stand next to the gate controls.

“Gentlemen, I’ll be brief. Our prince is still missing, and the King and Prince Damien have tasked us with finding his royal highness. His last known location are the hills just outside the palace gate, but we have reason to believe that the Wylde Folk may be involved.”

Sir Tyler almost started at that but managed to school himself. _He knows it’s not them. I told him specifically that it was orcs..!_ He tightened his grip on his reins, thankful for his gloves to keep the other knights from seeing his knuckles going white. _There is something else going on. I have to bring back proof that it wasn’t the Wylde Folk… or I have to find their village somehow and warn them that they’re being framed._ The rest of the commander’s words disappeared over his head as he tried to figure out how to bring back evidence of the orcs that had attacked him, his fellow knight, and the prince. The only thing to startle him out of his reverie was the other knights around him spurring their horses forward as the gates opened, and he moved to react.

The group had immediately headed towards the hills, but most had spread out to follow the old road towards the location the Wylde Folk’s village had been in thirty years previously. Sir Tyler hung to the back of the group, and stood up in his stirrups to quickly look over the group and to try and assess where everyone was riding towards. He realized after a moment that no one was heading towards the prince’s favored riding trail. If he rode up there, he would have the advantage of working completely alone, exactly where everything happened, without fear of another knight trampling all over everything - or worse, reporting him to Sir William for disobeying orders. _He’ll find out I did in due time,_ he thought with a small, but unfelt, grin, as as he turned Warlord towards the path and rode up the trail.

He sat up, still crouched and balancing on the balls of his feet, and looked around. _Task at hand, Tyler,_ he scolded himself. _Stop daydreaming and start paying attention to what you’re doing._ The ground up here was all chewed up from his fighting with the orcs and their horses’ feet, so there was nothing there of use. There were no dropped weapons or anything distinctive to take back. He sighed heavily. “I think I’m out of luck, Warlord,” he said aloud, looking up at the horse. He stood up and untied the reigns, looking around carefully as he did. He figured out the direction that Sir Ethan and the prince had ridden in, and noted the tracks of at least two orcs going the same way, so he saddled up and went that way.

He was riding for fifteen minutes, keeping Warlord’s pace slow as he followed the trail, keeping track of broken branches and trampled grass to figure out where the others had gone. There were signs of another scuffle- and the tracks clearly indicated someone had been dragged off. Judging by the way the feet dragged paths in the dirt and fallen leaves, there was no struggle: whoever had been pulled away was most likely unconscious when it happened.

“Shit,” he muttered. Another horse had continued off. The safe bet was that Sir Ethan and the prince had been intercepted, and the orcs had dragged Prince Mark off while Sir Ethan had continued on to alert the palace… but he was the only one of them to return. _Which means that idea is useless,_ he thought as he frowned to himself, and followed the trail left by the hooves of the horse who had fled the scene. It went erratically down the hillside, continuing towards the west. He had Warlord stop, sitting back in his saddle to think for a moment, speaking aloud as he did. “That puts the rider heading away from the palace, and towards the old road to Brookshire. The prince wouldn’t have ridden that way, and I’m already assuming that he’s the one who’s been taken by the orcs.” He sighed to himself. “Ethan may have panicked, or was injured and thus not thinking clearly, and gone the wrong way... which may have led to him riding into Wylde Folk territory… and that would likely mean he was captured by them for trespassing on their lands.”

He clicked his tongue for Warlord to start forward again, but stopped as he started to turn the stallion back towards the path that would take them, once again, towards the palace.

_If Ethan was captured, they may not have asked why he was in their territory. And if there are orcs active this close to the palace, that means that they are at risk as well,_ he thought. _I should go to try and warn them. It’s the decent thing to do, at least. And if I explain that’s why Ethan’s there, then maybe they’ll let him go as well, and I can bring him back to tell Sir William anything more that he might have seen after I sent him after Prince Mark..._

He mentally replied to that thought. _And what about your loyalty to the crown, to the oath you swore? Where do your alliances really lie, Tyler? You should be riding back to tell Sir William that orcs may have the prince- the one that_ you _were partly responsible for the safekeeping of!! Or trying to figure out where the orcs took him, so that you at least can give Sir William a direction to head in when the rescue is staged!!_

He exhaled slowly, looking from the direction the palace lay in, towards the one where Brookshire once stood, while a knot of anxiety and worry slowly formed and grew in his stomach. His second thoughts did raise a good point. He was not only the first of Prince Mark’s bodyguards, he had been handpicked by the prince himself: Prince Mark had been presented with candidates after his 18th birthday and he was officially given permission from the King to be able to leave the palace of his own accord. Somehow, Sir Tyler had been put into the line-up and had felt very conspicuous while surrounded by men who were easily stronger and older than he was. He had stood tall and made himself as stone-faced as he could once the Prince was presented, hoping that he at least wouldn’t look like a little boy around all the men. However, Prince Mark had stopped in front of him and gave him a long, curious look.

“This one,” he had said. “I think he’ll be perfect.”

The others had marched out, and Sir Tyler then began helplessly stammering his way through a thank you until Prince Mark had raised a hand, and he fell quiet at the gesture.

“Allow me to be frank: I chose you because I want someone on my level,” he’d said, looking squarely at the young knight. “Those other knights, they’re my father’s age. They’ll think they know what’s best for someone my age, even if I am their prince. But you… I think you and I can learn to get along together just fine.”

“With all due respect, your highness,” Sir Tyler had replied, “I was made to understand that this role is not for me to be your friend, but your protector.”

“And with all due respect to you, sir knight, I have been protected my entire life thus far. I mean to live a little before I am king. And if you’re not interested, I can find another knight who will humor me. Can you think of one who would do so, without me coming to harm..?”

Sir Tyler had fallen silent, looking at the other young man as he spoke, looking squarely into the prince’s eyes. Despite the difference in height, Prince Mark had an intensity in his gaze that gave him utmost command of the conversation. He had never considered how truly sheltered a royal life could potentially be until Prince Mark had made that comment, or how badly a young man in that position might want a friend instead of another guard. He then put his hand out. “All right, then. Let’s change the rules, and see how long we can get away with it.”

The prince had grinned and immediately shook his hand. “Excellent, Sir Tyler. I think this will be the start of a very fulfilling arrangement for us both.”

Sir Tyler thought back on all of this, as he looked once more between the palace and the old road.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured aloud, and with that he turned his horse towards the road and spurring it into a gallop. “I’m trusting you to be all right - to be _alive_ \- for a bit longer. I don’t trust Sir William to do this the right way any longer, so I need Ethan to help me find you and get you back home again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm up way too late posting this, but I finally got it finished up. Had a bit of writer's block the last few days!  
> I'm so glad that everyone seems to be enjoying this still. Thanks for the kudos and comments!


	12. Fight or Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were... miscalculations. Now to make an escape.

To an outside who had managed to stumble into the office of Lord Bob, looking at the man would make him appear to be the very picture of ease and calm. He was seated at his desk, leaning forward with his fingers steepling against each other and his chin resting on his thumbs. The only immediate movement that he was making were his eyes, tracing the path that his fellow lord Wade was walking back and forth across the room, looking like a cat tracking its prey before striking.

The truth of the matter, however, was that Lord Bob was just as much a nervous wreck as the other man in the room was. He was just better about containing his emotions for the moment.

“I paid good money for that rug and would rather not have to replace it early because of your fretting,” he said when Lord Wade next made a pass close to the desk.

“You’re not being funny.”

“I’m not trying to be; I’m trying to be frugal.”

“Dammit Bob-!” Lord Wade finally stopped pacing, and jerked his arm out to point in the general direction of the palace. “We have to do something about- about _that_!”

“Which I am trying to figure out. I just don’t need to walk to and fro to think. Do not mistake my physical inaction as mental or emotional as well.”

The other lord huffed in response. “Then what are you planning?”

“You make it sound like it’s going to be something nefarious. -I believe we just need to present our case to the King. I’m sure that whoever jailed Duchess Amy did so because of a misunderstanding, and once all is explained he’ll give the command for her release.”

“I knew she shouldn’t have gone back to the barracks alone,” Lord Wade grumbled in response. “I even said as much.”

“I know you did, but she’s also an adult with a mind of her own.” Lord Bob rose to his feet, heading to the hook by the door where he had left his coat. He pulled it on before speaking to Lord Wade again. The other lord followed his example, picking up his own coat from where he had draped it over a chair and putting it on as well. “We’ll set this right. We’ll explain that Duchess Amy came to us to address Prince Mark’s disappearance and to come up with some solutions to address what she perceived as… inaction in light of the circumstances. When he hears what we were doing, and why, I’m sure all will be fine in a matter of moments.”

“I just hope you’re right.” Lord Wade trailed after him as they proceeded out of the manor, both turning up their collars as soon as they were outside against the hard, cold rain that had been falling since noontime. As they walked, they drew closer together in order to continue their conversation in some sort of private way. “Why do you suppose that she was even jailed in the first place?”

“Breach of contract, most likely.”

“What contract?”

“The one between the crown and her family. She didn’t choose to be Prince Mark’s betrothed, after all. It was all a very long and complicated business transaction from the moment her father gained the Duchy for agreeing to join his family’s lands to the kingdom, and it was made official as soon as she was born. For giving up the freedom of those living on his ancestral property, he got his family closer to the throne.”

Lord Wade made a derisive noise. “And they say romance is dead.”

Lord Bob laughed aloud at that. “Too true, my friend. Too true. But if the King believes that the Duchess had a dalliance with one of the knights, for example, he could jail her for it and break the contract without retribution.”

“And where she’s been going to the barracks at odd hours by herself…”

“Exactly. Everything lines up a little too perfectly.”

“I _knew_ she shouldn’t have gone by herself.”

“Yes, you’ve already said as much.”

The other lord briefly pulled a face at him, before falling quiet for a moment. When he did start talking again, he had lowered his voice to just above a murmur. Lord Bob actually had to draw closer to him, inclining his head towards him to better hear him. “Speaking of, I wonder how that knight of ours is faring in this mess.”

“Hopefully he’s dressed better for inclement weather than we are.” Lord Bob also began talking more quietly. Given the topic at hand, it was just common sense to mind their surroundings as it was discussed.

“Or he’s deep enough in the woods that he’s got some shelter.”

“Or that.” They both braced against a sudden gust of wind that roared through the roads and alleys of the town, before they hurried across the street to the palace gates.

“You don’t think there’s anything to all those stories..? About the people of Brookshire learning magic?” Lord Wade mumbled as they waited for a guard to emerge and unlock the gates.

“No. And what even brought that on?”

“Well, this is a pretty powerful storm…”

Lord Bob scoffed. “You’re letting your imagination run away with you now.”

“I’m just saying! It normally doesn’t rain like this so early in the fall. We’d be closer to year’s end and the first snowfall before a storm like this came through.”

“Maybe it’s just being weird just to mess with you,” he teased as they approached the guard at the palace gates. Lord Wade rolled his eyes at him, and he turned to the guard. “Lords Robert and Wade, seeking an audience with his royal majesty if it should so please him.”

“One moment, please, my lords,” the guard replied. “I’ll just need to arrange an escort for you both.” With that, he turned and headed into the small wooden structure behind the gate.

Lord Wade shivered as they stood in the cold, waiting. “I hope he’s not just using this as a chance to warm up.”

“Really, Wade.” Lord Bob’s tone turned scolding. “His entire job is standing next to the gate. If he has an opportunity to get out of this mess, he can take it.”

“All right, all right. I just hope he warms up quickly, then.” The words had barely left Lord Wade’s mouth as the guard returned with another on his heels. The other person however was short, with a round face that implied childhood and a startled look to their eyes peeking out from under the dark red hood that all the squires wore in inclement weather.

“My apologies, my lords, but with the knights out searching for his royal highness, the only available escort is a squire…” The guard’s voice trailed off.

“Do not trouble yourself, my good man,” Lord Bob replied, trying to sound soothing. “We’re aware of the circumstances, and we’re not offended. Your name, squire?”

“Benjamin, my lords.” The boy executed a quick bow, as the guard at the gate pulled them open for the lords to enter. “At your service, my lords.”

“Thank you, Benjamin. Please, lead on.”

The boy nodded and immediately started towards the door into the palace, holding it open for the pair before taking the lead again. As they walked through the halls inside the palace, he pushed the hood back to reveal golden blond hair that curled erratically in spots. “I hope that you didn’t have to wait at the gate too long, sirs,” he said, clearly trying to make conversation.

_Sir William apparently hasn’t ground the personality out of this one yet,_ Lord Bob thought ruefully. Most of the squires, and even some of the younger knights, wouldn’t even dream trying to talk to any of the aristocracy when tasked to escort them anywhere. The commander thought it was inappropriate for the younger among his corps to address those higher ranked in society than they were, so the rule of thumb seemed to be to only speak when spoken to and to keep all responses as brief as possible. “It wasn’t long at all. But thank you for your concern.”

“You’re welcome, my lord.” The boy smiled brightly over his shoulder at the pair. He stayed with them all the way to the throne room, opening the door for them once more when they’d reached it, but after that he disappeared back into the hallways after giving their names to the guard posted at the back of the throne room.

“The Lord Robert and Lord Wade, requesting an audience with the throne,” the guard announced.

“Come forth, both of you.” The King sounded snippish, and the two men exchanged worried looks before walking towards where the man sat.

“Good afternoon, your majesty,” Lord Wade said, speaking for both of them as they bowed in unison.

“So you say. What would you petition me for?”

_Something’s wrong,_ Lord Bob started to worry internally. _I’ve never seen him this way._

“We’re here about Duchess Amy, your majesty.” He glanced over as Lord Wade answered, sounding perfectly confident. “We believe she was wrongfully imprisoned.”

The king sat up slowly, giving the pair a very long, very thoughtful look. “...do you, now?”

“Yes.” Lord Bob finally spoke up, in spite of the growing anxiousness he felt in his chest. “I’m sure that what she was doing seemed untoward and suspicious, but she really was acting in the best interests of the crown.”

“And why do you speak for her?”

“Because we were cooperating with her in the matter, your majesty.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Lord Bob suddenly became very aware of the feeling of a trap slamming shut.

“Prince Damien, your majesty,” the guard announced from the back. Both lords turned to watch the young man stride forward, dressed in riding gear with some armoring on it. He looked deeply concerned.

“Any news of the search, nephew?”

“Tragedy, I fear, my dear uncle.” Prince Damien stepped in front of the two lords, and took a knee in front of the throne. “The knights brought back word that they found proof that Prince Mark has died.”

The king bowed his head, before looking up at the two lords. There was fury in every part of his face. “Guards. The court is declared closed for the rest of the day. I will hear no more until I have grieved for my fallen son. Prince Damien, these two just outright admitted to being co-conspirators with the Duchess Amy in the sabotage- and now _murder_ \- of my only son, the heir to the throne. Have them taken to the dungeon with her. They will hang for their crimes at dawn tomorrow.”

“Wait, what-?!” Lord Wade’s eyes went wide. “What sabotage?!”

“If you insist on pretending you know nothing of it,” the king spat, “then I shall tell you. You and the Duchess released information to the Wylde Folk, formerly of Brookshire, regarding my son’s planned attack on their new hideout, as well as the route he would usually take for his rides. They ambushed him, and now we have found out that he is dead! Because of you three, Lipier will lose our last chance to conquer those insolent holdouts!”

“Not if I have anything to say in that matter, my uncle.” Prince Damien rose once again to stand on both feet. “With your permission, I would avenge my cousin’s murder and bring them to heel in his honor and memory.”

The king’s expression softened briefly. “This will be discussed later, nephew. For now, make sure these two are put in the dungeon.”

Prince Damien bowed. “Of course, uncle.” He turned around to face the two lords, expression hard and cold as two of his personal guard grabbed them both roughly. “Gentlemen, if you’ll just follow us this way…”

Within moments, they were dragged into the dungeons, their weapons taken from them, and thrown into the same cell as the Duchess Amy. She looked at them both with dismay as they both righted themselves and Lord Bob began dusting off his clothes.

“Well that was uncalled for,” he jokingly announced.

“Lord Bob, please,” Duchess Amy said. “I have very little patience for jokes right now. Why are you both here?”

“We were petitioning the king to release you, actually. It, ah… seems to have backfired on us.”

“Yes, I can see that.” She glanced over at Lord Wade, who had fished a whistle on a chain out and was blowing on it without any sound being made. “...forgive me, Lord Wade, but I believe that’s broken.”

“You would think that, but you’ll be surprised.” He tucked the whistle away again and leaned against the wall next to the window, looking out between the bars expectantly. After a few minutes, a bird landed on the sill, walking between the bars and holding a leg out to Lord Wade. Tied to its leg was a tiny roll of paper.

“What in the world-” Duchess Amy had been sitting on the cot in the chamber, but rose to her feet and went over to get a better look. “A trained pigeon?”

“Indeed. I have a dog trained to alert one of my servants when I blow the whistle. That servant knows where I am at all times, so it can direct one of the birds I have trained to me.” He fished around in his pockets before finding a piece of writing charcoal, and very carefully wrote a message on the paper in tiny letters. Once that was completed, he tied it to the bird’s leg again and watched as the bird flew off.

“So now what?” Lord Bob asked.

“I asked for aid from some people I know. We should have assistance just after midnight.”

“Well… I hope you’re right about that. Not long after that is our hanging, after all.”

“Lord Bob, please.” Duchess Amy went pale at the thought. “I’d rather not consider that.”

“My apologies, Duchess, but those are our circumstances at the moment, like them or not.”

She went back to the cot and sat down again. “Just because that is a fact doesn’t mean I will want it acknowledged.”

Lord Wade interjected. “Why don’t we all try and get some rest? We have some hours to waste, after all. It will go quicker if we go to sleep.”

“...Lord Wade does raise a very good point.” Lord Bob looked around the room before frowning. “Though this does appear to be single accommodations…”

“We will just have to cope with sleeping on the floor, Lord Bob. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“It may be the last gentlemanly thing we do,” he muttered in response, but he took off his coat and wadded it into something approximating a pillow before laying down on the floor with it under his head. He shut his eyes and listened to the straw-filled mattress on the cot wheeze and crunch as Duchess Amy settled onto it, and Lord Wade’s various small noises as he too laid down on the floor and got himself comfortable. In the distance he could hear guards talking quietly, water running, and dogs barking. _We must be near the kennels,_ he thought, the last fully developed idea he had before falling asleep.

* * * * *

It was pitch black out when the bang woke the three of them up. All of them sat up at once, and looked towards the door- or, rather, where the door had been. It was now laying in the hallways, ropes tied on the bars. Two people dressed in dark clothing appeared at the door with covered lanterns in hand. “Quick now!” one of them, a man, whispered. “The guards are in the middle of a shift change, we don’t have much time!”

Lord Bob immediately scrambled to his feet, followed by Lord Wade. Duchess Amy was nearly out the door before the rescuer had finished talking. They were led through servants’ hallways, exiting the palace through the kitchen gate, and brought to a gate on the city walls. There, another figure was holding three horses, ready for riding but clearly bred for farm work and not finery. Lord Wade helped Duchess Amy saddle up, before he and Lord Bob climbed up themselves. One of the rescuers handed a lantern to Duchess Amy, as Lord Wade leaned down to take the hand of one of the others. “To who do I owe the pleasure?”

“My father is Henry Richards, my lord,” the rescuer replied, in a clearly female voice. “When the word came he claimed the job. They just tried to frame my older sister for the murder of Prince James in there. Said she poisoned his tea. Father wanted to get them back, so he sent me and my brother to get you lot out.”

“I know your father’s name. Tell him I send my regards.”

“Of course, my lord. And thank you. But you ought to be off.”

“Indeed.” He sat back up. “Safe travels home tonight, my friends. -Lord Bob, Duchess Amy, we ride.”

They all spurred their mounts forward and out of the gate, silent until they were a mile and then some from the walls. That was when Duchess Amy finally spoke up. “And where are we riding to?”

“We need to head towards Brookshire, and find out where the Wylde Folk are now, so we can beg entrance from them,” Lord Bob replied. “We need hiding from the crown, and they’re currently the experts at that.”

Lord Wade nodded at that, the motion just barely noticeable in the bobbing light from the lantern Duchess Amy held up. He then looked up. “At least it’s a clear sky.”

Duchess Amy looked thoughtful for a moment. “Which constellation is the Giant’s Hammer?”

Lord Wade looked confused, before riding up alongside her and pointing to the sky. “That one, right there… though why do you ask?”

She smiled. “Because under the handle is where Prince Mark says their hideout is, based off all his spies and plans. So I say we aim for that.”

“‘Says’?” Lord Bob gave her a look, eyebrow raised.

She looked straight forward. “I’ve spent enough time with him now that I know he’s too stubborn to be dead. Aggravated to no end, yes. Wounded, yes. Dead? Not if he can help it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone's still enjoying this! This chapter turned into a monster on me (7 pages all written up) but whee for character development for Wade and Bob. And how many people agree with Duchess Amy's assessment of Prince Mark there at the end..?


	13. Reluctant Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan comes to... but is he safe?

Ethan was aware of two things that had remained the same as he slowly got his eyes open: one, that he was still alive somehow, in spite of everything that had happened to him in the last two days; and two, that he still felt awful, every inch of him aching and a dead weight sitting in the center on his chest.

Then the weight on his chest shifted before it sniffed him.

_And the raccoon is still here. Make that three things,_ he thought, finally getting his eyes completely open and rolling his head to his right. It was just barely dawn, the air still chilly and the sky blending the lingering night with the coming dawn into a gray-blue smudge - but there was already a fire going a few feet away and the scent of bacon coming from a frying pan over it. Ethan’s stomach rumbled aggressively in response to the smell, and he tried to push himself up into a sitting position. The raccoon chittered as it slid down his breastplate and into his lap into the least graceful position it could possibly end up in. “You weigh a lot for something I’m imagining,” he joked to the animal, who set its ears back in response and let out a short bark at him. He ignored the noise, moving to try to get up and head towards the river.

“Oooh hey now! Easy, easy!” It was the same female voice he’d heard before he fainted, and he looked at the raccoon again. The raccoon, however, was looking towards his left, so Ethan looked that way as well. A female halfling, curling brown hair up in a messy bun and arms loaded up with kindling, was making her way over to him. Ethan’s eyes went wide as he just stared at her, gaping as she trundled past, dumped the kindling next to the fire, and then turned to plant her fists on her hips and gave him a stern look after shoving a loose strand of hair out of her face. “That injury of yours is no laughing matter, no sir! You stay put right there and mind yourself. I’m just getting breakfast on the fire now, and then we’ll worry about you moving hither and yon!”

“I’m…” Ethan struggled for words as she turned and went rummaging through a bag, watching as the raccoon bounded off his lap and after the woman, chittering merrily as it tagged along behind her. He was certain he had never felt this utterly confused in his entire life. “Sorry? But… why are you helping me?”

She huffed, sidestepping the raccoon as she took out a small loaf of brown bread and some vegetables out of a bulky brown knapsack. “On account of you laying in the middle of here all alone, with a wound in your leg and pale as death, is why!” She gave him a look that reminded him of one of the drill sergeants back in the barracks, who suffered no fools and had a piercing glare that Ethan had made a point to avoid having aimed at him. “Goodness me, but I thought the knights of that kingdom of yours were supposed to have some sense in their heads.”

His mouth worked for a minute without anything coming out. Finally, he ventured, “...I don’t think well when I’m hungry?”

She harrumphed loudly, but there was a small smile on her face as she moved to turn the bacon over in the pan before starting to chop up the vegetables. “At least you have an excuse, I suppose. -Kelpy, did you get the water filled up like I asked?”

“All set,” came a voice from the river nearby. Ethan gawked as an arm made of water arose from the waters, setting a blackened iron pot on the grassy embankment before disappearing. “Sorry for the wait; I got gossiping with some of the trees about this situation.”

“Kelpy-!” the halfling returned, scoldingly, as she picked up the pot and lugged it towards the fire. “As if we have time for that, really.”

“Yes, but me telling them gets word to Dan and people who will be able to help more quickly.”

The halfling set the pot on the fire with a sigh. “I hate when you’re right like that. -You get out of my way before I kick you straight into the fire, you lump.” The latter half of her words were directed at the raccoon, who was perched on its back legs and had its forepaws clasped in an expression that looked something like praying. In response, Eliwyn just waved the wooden spoon in her hand threateningly. “You’ll eat the scraps, like you always do! Pushy little beastie.”

“Do you want some help..?” Ethan ventured.

The halfling whirled around on him, before her body language relaxed. “You know what? Sure. I’d love some help.” She brought over a board, balancing the loaf of bread she’d pulled from her bag and a knife carefully. “Slice that up. Nice and thick, there’s only the four of us to account for. Once we’ve got a meal in you, we’ll see about getting you somewhere safe.”

He balanced the board across his lap, but hesitated. He spoke up a moment later. “Why, though?”

“Why what?”

“Why… why help me? My kingdom- the crown has been hostile to the non-human races for… forever. And you don’t even know why I’m out here.”

She shrugged, not looking at him as she answered. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Because I don’t need to know _why_ you’re laying somewhere hurt to want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Because it’s what Korso would do in the same situation,” the voice from the river chimed in.

“You hush yourself, you babbling brook!” the halfling snapped back.

Ethan frowned. “Who’s Korso?”

The halfling stiffened and looked away, blinking hard. After a moment, Ethan realized that she was trying to not cry. Kelpy spoke up. “Korso is her husband. Brilliant little man, worked on everything and anything that broke and could usually fix it all. The goblins raided their town a month ago and he was taken. I’ve been trying to help her track him down for a couple weeks now.” The halfling female sniffled loudly, still looking away. “Best guess either of us had is that they needed someone with his intelligence to either be creating or repairing weaponry.”

Ethan was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. “I’m sorry…” His voice trailed off as he realized he didn’t even know this poor woman’s name.

“Eliwyn. It’s Eliwyn.” She swallowed hard. “You needn’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m Ethan,” he replied, before clearing his throat and continuing. “And maybe it’s not my fault, but I still feel for you. That sounds like a terrifying situation to be in. I don’t even know that I’d have the drive to go out looking for someone in that circumstance.”

“Normally I wouldn’t either, but… he needs to be rescued. And I need him. So here I am.” She looked down as the raccoon pressed against her leg and made a worried noise.

Ethan smiled a little and nodded. “My granddad used to say that sometimes heroes are just the people who showed up.”

“...I like that.” She reached down to rub the raccoon’s head roughly, before breathing out hard and turning away from him. She spoke again and her tone was back to what it had been before: hurried and demanding. “I need to mind the bacon and get all those vegetables cooked up. Ethan, get that bread sliced up. Kelpy, you’d better manifest yourself if you want to eat.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” the being grumbled, before a pillar of water arose from the river next to the little campsite. It slowly took a human shape and stepped onto the grass, staying well away from the fire as it headed towards Ethan. “Stand up a moment, please. I want to check how your leg’s doing.”

“Uh… sure.” Ethan set aside the bread he had started to cut up and got to his feet. There was still a short throb of pain, but nothing anywhere how it had felt the day before. Kelpy knelt, gently touching around where the wound was, before putting a hand to Ethan’s forehead. “Still running a fever, though the wound itself is healing up all right. Must be an infection deeper down than I can go.”

“Wait, you healed me-?”

“Water nymphs have an affinity for healing,” Kelpy replied with a pleased smile. “I’m not the most talented out there, but I at least stopped the worst of it. I normally stick to a brook about a day’s ride from here, but I’ve been trailing Eliwyn to make sure she’s okay. There’s an old, old river nymph near the Wylde Folk’s holdings. Originated in the mountains from the snowpack up there. He’s crotchety as all get out but I’ve heard it told he can bring people back from the very edge of death.” As Kelpy spoke, Ethan watched a stream of water come out of the pot that was heating on the fire and pass across the nymph’s hand, then float through the air to the back of his leg. A moment later there was a warm, comforting wetness around his wound from the arrow.

“Really?”

“Like I said, I’ve only been told that. I’ve never seen it myself. But the older the elemental, the stronger the magic, has always been my experience with it.”

“That’s still incredible, though. I mean, back in the kingdom we have some skill with medicine, but I’d heard that we’d lost some skills when the King came to power because of his… tendency towards isolationism.”

“More than likely you did.” Eliwyn looked up from taking the bacon from the pan. “Smaller human towns, or those that lived out in the woods for their livelihoods, often relied on those who had learned from our races. Word is that when the King swept through to claim those places for his own, they either had to flee due to threats of dark magic being used or they had to give up those practices entirely. That’s half the reason why the Wylde Folk are still going so strong, from my understanding of it. People found their holdings and took shelter there, brought their skills with them. They probably easily had four or five healers just after the King’s raids, and they stayed around until a few departed for other hiding places who needed medical help. -Hurry up with that bread, Ethan. The vegetables will be done shortly.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. On it.” He hurried through cutting up the loaf, before lugging it over to Eliwyn. A few minutes later, they were sitting in a circle between the fire and the river, feasting on the bacon and cooked vegetables draped over the thickly cut bread. It was uncomplicated, and rustic, but it was delicious as far as Ethan was concerned: even if he hadn’t eaten in over twenty four hours, he felt as though he still would have inhaled the meal anyways. He helped Eliwyn with the washing up, dunking the plates and pan into the pot of hot water and scrubbing them all clean. Once that was done, and they had the fire safely put out, Kelpy disappeared back into the waters of the river and Eliwyn got the bulky pack back on her shoulders.

“Right. Let’s get you where you need to go. I’m guessing you want to head back towards the palace..?”

“I need to go to the holdout of the Wylde Folk,” Ethan replied, and watched Eliwyn start with surprise. “I need to warn them.”

“Warn them of what?”

“There’s orcs in the mountains, planning on attacking all humans. To bring back their old gods.” He briefly debated with himself whether or not to say more, before deciding that he was already in this deep. “They attacked me while I was guarding the crown prince. I haven’t seen his royal highness or the other knight who rode out with me since then. I fear they may be already dead.”

Eliwyn paled at that. “That’s- that’s not good at all. Kelpy, get ahead of us and-”

“Already on it!!” The nymph’s voice already sounded like it was coming from an area around the bend ahead, and gaining distance to boot.

The halfling looked up at Ethan. “Right. Then we’re hoofing it and quick. Orcs won’t wait for us to take our time.”

“I’m right behind you,” he replied, and set off on her heels as she turned to the northwest and back into the depths of the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's okay! Like I would really hurt the blue boi.
> 
> Thanks everyone for the comments and kudos. Chapter 14 is... started. It's going to be a beast. I have a lot of plot to get in there!


	14. Ties that Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And those that bind also commonly draw things closer together...

“Are you absolutely certain about this?” Sean asked for what must have been the hundredth time since he’d sat down with Prince Mark that afternoon. “I mean. You’re pretty much throwing the last thirty years in your own father’s face if you do this.”

“I’m as certain about this as I think I possibly could be,” Prince Mark replied, looking out at the treetops from where they were sitting, backs against the wall of the treefort. He was still holding the roughly carved wooden cup that Sean had brought up so they could share the wine in the skins he’d lugged up with the prince’s lunch, and he turned the cup in his hands before he spoke again. “I thought I knew everything about your people, but what I actually knew was just my father’s prejudices and anger. Now that I’ve seen the other side of the coin… I can’t let his plans move forward.”

“And if he disowns you, or orders you killed? What then?”

He grinned at the other man. “You’re starting to sound like you care about me.” His grin just grew that much larger as Sean blustered in response, more noise than proper words. “Seriously though. It’s the risk I have to take. I don’t want a legacy built on war and violence to inherit, let alone maintain or expand upon. I’ve realized that now, being out here the last few days.” He looked back out into the distance, expression turning more serious as his tone gentled. “There are too many people out there who need my help, and if I have the resources to do that… then that’s just what I’m going to do.”

Sean snorted. “Pity we didn’t know thirty years ago that all we needed to do was give you royal types a vacation in the woods. We could have saved ourselves a ton of sorrow and hardship.”

Prince Mark laughed aloud at that. “I don’t think it’d be quite that simple with my father-!”

“It would have been worth a try.” After a long moment of quiet, Sean spoke again. “What is your father like, anyways?”

Prince Mark looked thoughtful. “He is a good man, and a good father, when you are looking at him as just a man. He was never outstandingly wise, or good-natured, or outgoing. But he came to the throne late in life and abruptly when he did, since he was the second-born son of my grandfather. When my uncle died of a fever, my father had maybe twenty-four hours worth of education on how to rule the kingdom before he was crowned.” He looked down at the cup in his hands before continuing. “So I think he feels like he must do as much as possible to leave his mark on the history of our kingdom. Hence seizing the towns and lands around the city to force growth of the domain. Tactically it makes perfect sense, but when you think about it from the social point of view? He’s created more problems with that one move than I think he ever solved. And he holds grudges, which I’m sure my initial attitude made pretty clear.”

“And how do you plan on talking him out of his grudge..?”

“I don’t know yet. But my returning in good health and advising that you never meant any harm- don’t you start,” he interrupted himself, raising a hand, as Sean started to try and speak over him. “I know what the original plan was, but that’s not the case any more. I won’t frame you and give him the push he needs to force anything-” He stopped as a bell rang below them. “What’s that?”

“Don’t worry. I have a feeling I know who it is.” He glanced over the edge of the porch briefly. “And I was right. Here they both come.”

“They?”

“Robin and Signe. Don’t worry, your highness. You’ll like them both.” He stepped back and watched as first a male elf and then a human woman both appeared out of thin air on the porch. Prince Mark stared at them in disbelief at their sudden arrival, but Sean frowned at seeing both of them with worried expressions. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a knight riding the old road, coming right for the gates,” the elf said immediately. “We just warned the elders.”

“There’s not enough time for everyone to escape and hide in the woods, though,” the woman continued, reaching for Sean’s hands. He took hers lightly as she continued speaking. “And there aren’t enough of us here who are powerful enough to combine for an illusion.”

“That’s true.” He frowned. “We’ll just have to do what the elders always advise, which is take cover and hope for the best. -Everyone, inside now.” He waited for the three to enter ahead of him before he joined them, moving to the window so he could better see the gate below. He pressed himself against the wall on one side of the window, while Robin took the other. “Oh, by the way. Robin, Signe, this is Prince Mark. Prince Mark, Robin, Signe.”

“I don’t know that now’s the time for introductions,” Robin replied with a roll of his eyes.

“I didn’t ask you.”

“Both of you, quiet,” Signe replied in a whisper. “We need to be paying attention.”

Prince Mark crept over to the window. “Is there any way we can get a better view, like a spyglass?”

Robin looked at Signe. “This would be good practice for that new spell.”

The prince looked over at the slight, dark-haired woman. “Spell? You’re a caster?”

She looked hesitant before she finally nodded. “I am. Not the best, but-”

“‘Not the best’?” Sean exclaimed as quietly as he could. “Like hell you aren’t! You’re the strongest caster in the village! And the hardest-working to boot!” Despite his tone, he did not look angry or scolding: instead, his expression was one of pride and happiness as he looked at Signe.

As Sean spoke, Prince Mark looked from him to Signe, who was blushing profusely at this point, and understood everything.For the first time since his misadventure started, he thought of his betrothed and wondered what Duchess Amy was doing, or how she was handling everything with his disappearance… and suddenly felt like a complete ass for how he had behaved around her before. He had been so distant and had only ever discussed his plans for overthrowing the Wylde Folk and the future of the kingdom as he had seen himself ruling it with her, as if he thought that would impress her, but deep down he was enamored with her and just didn’t know how to make the words that he wanted to say come out right. _Let alone come out at all,_ he thought, before speaking again. “Let’s see what you’ve got, then.”

She got to her feet and murmured a few words in a foreign language while carefully tracing shapes in the air. As her hands moved, lines began to trail after her fingertips like the tail of a comet. She dropped her hands and suddenly everything outside the window drew closer and clearer. Signe leaned into Sean, who just beamed proudly at her, before watching Prince Mark stand up to get a better look.

“This is amazing- _you’re_ amazing!” He looked at Signe, who was blushing all over again at the praise. “You listen to him when he tells you how good you are from now on!”

“Thank you, your highness,” Sean said with a grin.

Prince Mark smiled at the pair, before turning to the window to look through the illusion. A man wearing a hooded cloak had just pushed open the gates to lead in a gray horse, obviously looking around to see if anyone’s seen him- or even there, for that matter. “Are you sure that’s a knight?” he asked softly.

“Only your father’s army rides horses such as that, your highness,” Robin replied. “We’ve tricked enough of his scouts away from these walls to know what their destriers look like.”

“This one was at least smart enough to not come crashing through our woods wearing full plate and shouting threats,” Sean added. “That was the last one who actually got close enough for us to react.”

“Didn’t Arin set a bear after that one?” Robin asked.

“He did. Startled some poor bear out of a berry bush and its breakfast, and the first thing the bear saw was that knight, so off he went tearing off after the man!” Sean chuckled to himself. “I always felt sorry for the poor horse after that.”

Prince Mark grinned at the story, but then looked through the window and the illusion attached to it once more. The knight had dropped his hood back, and Prince Mark felt a joy like nothing he’d experienced before at seeing the man’s face. “Sir Tyler-!” he almost shouted.

“Whoa, hey, inside voice!” Robin snapped. “Do you _want_ to give away this position?”

“Sean!” Prince Mark lowered his volume, but not his excitement. “Sean, how do I get down from here?”

Sean gaped at him. “I- I usually climb down.”

“I can get you down quickly,” Signe spoke up, “if you’re willing to trust my magic.”

Prince Mark hesitated at that, before nodding. “I don’t think you would offer if you thought it would harm me. So yes. I trust you, _and_ your magic.”

She smiled cautiously at that, before putting her hands on his arms and gripping them tightly. “Take a deep breath,” she said, “ and then hold it while focusing on my hands holding you.”

He did as he was told, and then suddenly the world tilted. He focused on her grip on his arms but worried that she was going to let go if the world kept spinning the way it seemed to be…

And then, just like that, they were on the ground. For the first time in days, Prince Mark was standing on grass and dirt and stone, instead of the boards of the treefort above him. He blinked a few times before grinning at Signe. “That was terrifying but I’m really glad for the experience,” he finally managed in a low voice.

“I did warn you,” she replied, looking as though she was finally relaxing. “Go to your friend, your highness. I’ll wait here.”

He nodded and headed out into the opening of the village square, suddenly feeling very self-conscious for the first time in his life. He was once again in his riding clothes - Sean had somehow gotten them washed and dried without anyone noticing their finery - and his circlet marking him as the crown prince of Lipier was on his forehead where it belonged, but it all felt foreign to him somehow, like wearing someone else’s shoes after they’d worn them long enough to have the outlines of their feet embedded into the soles. _Do I even want to be rescued and taken back home again?_ he thought as he watched Sir Tyler walk his horse around the square. The knight was limping slightly as he went. _I’ve always felt like I was being someone else there. What people wanted or expected me to be. Here, in just a few days, I’ve been able to climb over the wall I was building around myself and just… be me._ He frowned to himself. _But if I stay, I can’t stop what I was trying to set in motion. Someone has to step up and try to move towards peace instead of domination. And I guess that someone is going to have to be me._

With that thought, he moved to where he was more immediately visible. Sir Tyler glanced his way a moment later and immediately grinned. “Your highness!”

“You’ve no idea how happy I am to see you,” he said as the knight jogged over as best he could, his horse trotting after him. “Were you hurt?”

“My leg, yes. Don’t worry, the healer’s already seen to me. Are you all right?”

“Fine, fine. I had a head wound but it was nothing serious. How’s Sir Ethan? Is he with you?” He watched Sir Tyler’s face fall and immediately a cold feeling of dread settled on him. “He’s not returned yet?”

“Sire, I went back to the trail we rode and saw that someone had been dragged away by orcs. I assumed it was you. I only came here to warn these people that your father and Sir William are officially blaming them for your disappearance.”

“Then orcs must have Sir Ethan,” Prince Mark said, frowning as the dread was slowly replaced with anger at the actions of his father. “We have to go and find him- but first we have to help these people. Did you use-”

“Your assumed location for the village, yes. Which Sir William and your father know of from your conferencing with them about the plans to invade.”

“Then everyone here needs to hide. Follow me.” He started towards the tree, looking around for Signe. When he didn’t see her, he raised his voice. “Signe? Sean? Anyone! He’s safe, I promise you!”

“Your highness-” Sir Tyler started to say, but then leapt backwards as Signe and Sean appeared before them, with Robin appearing on his own a moment later. “What in the _hell_?!”

“I’ll explain later. Sir Tyler, this is Signe, that’s Sean, and that’s Robin. Signe, Sean, Robin: Sir Tyler. Pleasantries aside, everyone needs to leave, now.”

“What’s wrong?” Robin asked.

“My father has sent knights out to find this village. I had estimated in this area for the final location based off scout reports- and unfortunately I was right. You need to get people out of here and hidden. I need to ride out to find my-” He stopped, blinking, as a sudden realization occurred to him like dawn breaking over the horizon. “I need to find my friend. I need to know what happened to Sir Ethan. And then I need to go back to stop this, now.”

Sir Tyler gave him a look, as Sean stepped up to put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll take care of them, your highness. I promise you that. You just worry about what you need to do.”

Prince Mark gave the other man a long look, before pulling him into a hug.

“What the hell’s this about, then?!” Sean finally managed to stammer out.

“I wanted to say thank you.” Prince Mark pulled back, his hands on Sean’s arms. “I knew I was isolated from the world, but you showed me how badly it had turned me into something I didn’t want to be. So… thank you, so much, for making sure I know both sides of the story.”

Sean shrugged. “You deserved a chance, I suppose. Now get, while you still have time!”

The prince nodded, letting Sir Tyler mount his horse first before he climbed up behind him. A moment later the pair were off, riding towards the palace.

“So what are we telling the elders?” Robin asked, folding his arms over his chest.

Sean glanced up at the treefort briefly before letting out a soft sigh. “The truth, finally.”

“Hmph! About time.”

“Shut up and just go tell them, Robin.” The elf snickered and headed off, and Sean shook his head. Signe moved up beside him, and he moved his arm around her waist to pull her closer to him. “What was it you once told me was the worst curse in the world? ‘May you live in interesting times’ or something like that?”

“Something like that,” she echoed with a small smile, tilting her head to rest it against his chest. Then she laughed, the sound brief and soft.

“What is it?”

“I knew it wouldn’t need dark magic to change him. You did what I told you to, and you gave him a chance. You didn’t even need any magic at all.”

“Yeah, yeah, be quiet,” he teased before kissing her temple. “Now come on. We’ve work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait everyone! My job's been outright insane the last two weeks. I'm hopeful I can get Chapter 15 up this weekend.


	15. Boiling Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A knight still lost. A prince now found. And choices have to be made.

Nightfall had come rapidly upon the pair as they headed back towards the kingdom, the waning moon so razor-thin at that point that there was barely enough of it in the sky to cast any light. To make things more complicated, a fine haze of clouds from the storms earlier that day still hung above and further dimmed what little the stars might have thrown down to help. Sir Tyler was still riding as fast as he dared to, hoping that Warlord had as much trust in him as he had in the beast underneath him. Prince Mark was behind him, arms wrapped around the knight’s chest. Sir Tyler glanced over his shoulder at him and spoke up. “Sire, are you _sure_ -”

“I’m positive I wasn’t enchanted or cursed or however you want to word it, Sir Tyler,” he interrupted, “so please, stop asking.”

“All right, all right. I’m still just saying that your change in attitude, it’s… abrupt.”

Prince Mark snorted at that. “I think we can definitely agree on that. -So what happened after Sir Ethan and I left you?”

“I knocked back the orcs, got myself injured, went back to the barracks and informed Sir William,” he said, trying to not sound irritable at having to repeat the story again. “I was seen to by the healer, and then I was invited to Lord Bob’s home- at least I _think_ it was Lord Bob’s, it might have been Lord Wade’s-”

The prince interjected again. “I know these names. Though why did Lord Bob or Lord Wade want to meet with you?”

“It was actually at the Duchess Amy’s request, your highness. She was worried about your safety, and with good reason too. When I rode out with the other knights this morning, Sir William said that they had proof the Wylde Folk were involved, but I could see as plain as day while I was there that wasn’t the case at all.” The knight fell silent for a moment as Warlord shied away from a spot in the road, and he soothed the horse before he continued. “Duchess Amy fears that your cousin means to take the throne, and that he has Sir William under his control somehow.”

“I suppose I should have expected he would make a move like this someday,” Prince Mark grumbled, mostly to himself. Then he spoke a little louder, clearly addressing Sir Tyler again. “But… you say that the Duchess was worried about me? And trying to organize a way to find me?”

“Very much so, sire. She is the driving force to finding you and bringing you back, at the moment. The lords and I were pretty much acting on her command.”

From over the knight’s shoulder, there was a thoughtful noise. “That’s… I didn’t think that she would take the lead in this, honestly.”

“Well, sire… she did.”

“Interesting.”

The knight was quiet for a time, and all around them the only noise was Warlord’s hooves striking the earth below. Finally he spoke again. “Your highness… what are the Wyld Folke like?”

“They aren’t different from us at all.” The prince actually sounded a little sad as he answered. “They grow their crops just as my subjects do, they hunt in the woods the same, they are born and live and die exactly as we do. The only real difference is that my father made their lives so much _harder_ over wanting to call them and their lands his.” After a moment, he added on, “Well, that and they’re much more connected to the world than we are. Metaphysically speaking.”

“I see,” Sir Tyler replied after a moment. “So is it true that they can all practice magic, then? Or that they commune with the magical creatures of the woods?”

The prince made a derisive noise. “No, not at all,” he lied while trying to not think of Sean’s water magic or Signe’s spellcasting as he spoke, as if dwelling on the ideas of what he had seen would somehow make the knight aware of the truth. His conscience, however, would not be ignored, so he continued, “At least, not that I was witness to.” _That’s at least close to the truth. I didn’t meet many of the villagers, so I can’t speak for all of them._ Why do you ask?”

“Just thinking of all those rumors that have circled while we’ve been alive, that’s all. Like how they can control the elements, or speak with animals.” Sir Tyler chuckled briefly. “I think that tonight I should like the power to control light, and create more from the moon so I would feel more confident about how fast we’re riding along.”

The prince looked overhead. “Or to snap and have fire at your command, so you’d always have a torch with you.”

“Or that, that is true.” Sir Tyler fell silent, pulling up on the reins so Warlord slowed to a halt. He peered ahead into the dark while sitting up straighter in the saddle, his body language becoming tense and alert.

Prince Mark felt a cold pit of fear form in his stomach, all too aware of how similar this was to the moment before he’d been separated from the two knights on the morning ride. _Only a few days ago but a lifetime away,_ he thought to himself, looking in the same direction Sir Tyler was, willing his eyes to spot or his ears to pick up on whatever threat the knight had in the darkness ahead. _When this is all over, I need him to train me to be more observant. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in myself that morning, we might not be in this predicament right now._ Finally, he ventured, “What are we looking for?”

“Riders,” Sir Tyler replied, so softly that the prince barely heard him. “I saw a light ahead but they must have heard us and extinguished it.”

“Could they be other knights?”

“Possibly. Or bounty hunters. I’ve no idea how many irons in the fire your cousin has at this moment.”

Prince Mark suddenly realized with those words just what kind of trouble they could both be in. “Are the knights still loyal to my father-?” he asked in a panicked whisper.

“As far as I know… but at this point, no one but your cousin holds his ear.” Sir Tyler sat up even straighter. “Stay behind me now. I can hear them approaching, and if good fortune is with us I may be able to hide you from their sight.”

He fought back the urge to snap about the knight commenting on his height, or lack thereof, while pulling his arms close to himself and trying to shrink himself down to be as invisible as possible. As he did, he could finally hear the sound of the horses approaching as well- and then he nearly fell off the horse as Sir Tyler let out a surprised, but pleased shout.

“My lords! What brings you out here?”

Prince Mark peered around the knight’s shoulder. Before them were three riders on horseback. The closest one, he realized, was Lord Wade from his father’s court. After Sir Tyler addressing the group, the others coaxed their horses forward as well, revealing Sir Bob and Duchess Amy. His breath caught in his throat briefly at seeing her with them. “And dear lady,” he said after a moment.

“Oh- oh, yes, of course. My apologies, Duchess Amy-”

“Please. No apologies, we haven’t the time.” She rode forward. “I fear that all we’ve tried to do has backfired. We were arrested and were to be hung for collaborating in the murder of Prince Mark, as ordered by Prince Damian.”

“What?!” Prince Mark felt the first flickers of anger and self-doubt rise up in him anew. He hadn’t even thought about the way his cousin made him feel about his potential future as heir in the last few days, but now here he was again. “And what proof did he have that I was murdered?”

“He didn’t.” This came from Lord Bob, as Lord Wade relit the lantern that Sir Tyler had previously spotted. “But he said the knights had returned with as much, and your father took it as fact. And given that his brother Prince James just died as well-”

“My uncle is dead too?” The prince looked between the three members of the court before him. “I mean, I admit no real closeness to him, but still!”

“It is a bad time to be a royal family member right now, I fear,” Lord Bob answered. “At least, one who isn’t Prince Damien or your father, at the moment.”

“And there’s reason to believe that Prince James was murdered.” Lord Wade spoke up now. “The daughter of one of my farmers works in the kitchen, and she was framed for poisoning him. I know her well, and I don’t even think her capable of killing an insect that’s made its way indoors. Her sister came to assist in our escape from the dungeons.”

“Lord Minion lived up to the nickname at last?” Prince Mark smiled, and even laughed as the other man groaned aloud at the mention of it. It also did not escape his notice that the Duchess was looking squarely at him and smiling in that fascinatingly private way of hers. “That’s all the grief I’ll give you for your family’s ability to keep families on your lands, Lord Wade. After everything these last few days, I’m thankful for any and all help.”

“I hate to interrupt but…” Sir Tyler looked among the members of the court. “Was there any word of Sir Ethan before all that evil befell you three?”

Duchess Amy finally looked away from the Prince to shake her head. “My apologies, Sir Tyler, but there was no word of him returning with the knights that we received. He could be safely back at the palace by now, but…”

“But considering the fact that they tried to keep me from riding out, and arrested you three for seeking the truth, he could be in danger if he was there.”

“I have a proposition.” They all turned to look at Prince Mark as he spoke again. “I was among the Wylde Folk while I was missing. They treated me for a head wound, and… opened my eyes to some hard truths that I had not learned within the castle’s walls. They may be able to assist us with shelter and some aid while we figure out how to return to the castle and how to bring my cousin to heel.”

“Sire, with all due respect… Your father has long looked for a reason to wage war with the Wylde Folk. If he were to receive word that you had not only been there without signalling in some way but _willingly_ returned to them instead of to him…” Lord Bob’s voice trailed off, and his mouth worked a moment before he finally found the words. “He would be most displeased.”

The prince reached up and took the circlet from his head, holding it in both hands for a moment to study it. It was a family heirloom at least fifteen generations old now, given to the crown prince on his sixteenth birthday to mark him among any other male family members as the one who was to take the throne on the king’s passing: three golden bands, weaving together as though they were braided cord, meeting in the center of his forehead to form a diamond shape in which a delicately cut ruby had been placed. It was nothing too complicated or ornate - there was a tiara reserved for a princess never born to his parents he had seen in the treasury that was easily twice the weight with the amount of gems that were inlaid into it - but, according to his father when the circlet had first been placed on his brow, it was not meant to be showy but to train his head to wear a crown.

“Your highness?” There was Duchess Amy’s voice, full of concern as it cut through his thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

“He thinks me dead,” he answered after a moment, before looking up. He could hear water running nearby: _a stream or a small river, perhaps,_ he thought. “My cousin is, for better or worse, likely more in charge of things than any of us care to admit, but tradition will stand: if he does not wear the circlet, he cannot hold the throne. My father will see to that much in spite of everything.” He flung his arm out, the circlet leaving his fingertips perfectly and briefly catching the lantern light as it disappeared from view. A moment later, there was a faint splash in the distance. “So let me be dead, and let me aid the Wylde Folk. They have thirty years’ worth of wrongs from the crown to be righted, and I mean to start doing as much.”

“I am yours to command, sire.” Sir Tyler’s response was immediate.

“As am I,” Lord Bob chimed in.

“And I,” said Lord Wade.

Prince Mark looked at Duchess Amy. “And you, my dear lady?”

She blushed, the coloring on her cheeks only just evident in the dark. “I admit that I am not used to answering as though I were one of your knights, sire. My classes in how to behave in the court did not cover insurrections and rebellions as much as they did how to dance prettily and carry a conversation.”

He laughed and dismounted from Sir Tyler’s horse, going over to hers and reaching up for her hand. When she placed it in his, he kissed her knuckles. “All I ask from you is that you keep my military obsession in check this time,” he said up to her. “Remind me that these are people and homes, not just hypotheticals and strategies.”

“Then yes, I am yours to command as well,” she answered with a laugh.

“More likely he’s yours to command,” Lord Bob immediately replied.

“Lord Robert, mind your tongue,” Prince Mark said in return as he returned to his seat behind Sir Tyler on Warlord. “Sir Tyler, take us back to the Wylde Folk. We’ve a world to change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for being so patient about this one. I was on a difficult assignment this past month and it didn't leave me with a lot of energy towards writing. But here it is! And things are going to really pick up from here!  
> Thank you as well for the kudos, bookmarks and comments! I appreciate each and every one.


	16. Interventions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paths cross eventually. Streams alter the landscape the longer they flow through. And somewhere in the darkest night, there is a light.

Eliwyn kept glancing back at the other two people in her party with a worried look on her round little face, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth to gently chew on it as they hurried through the dark. Had it been better circumstances, she would have had them halt to camp for the night and to push for the Wylde Folks’ camp in the morning: the young knight now being mostly dragged by Kelpy had kept her pushing on despite the lack of light to guide their way. She stopped and opened up her waterskin, waiting for Kelpy to catch up before handing it to the water nymph.

“Thank you, Eliwyn,” the nymph replied, before taking a long drink from the skin. “How much further..?”

“Likely another hour. I’m sorry you’re the one to keep lugging him.”

“I’m managing for now.” She glanced at the man, whose face was alternately ghostly white and fiery red from the fever that had hit him like a stampeding bull about a half hour ago. “If I’d only been more thorough… I should have tried to probe deeper than I did-”

“Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve,” Eliwyn returned, tone a bit too sharp. “You at least held it off, and we’re getting close. We’ll get him the care he needs.” She looked up at Kelpy, who handed her back her waterskin. The nymph looked hurt, and she sighed. “I’m sorry, Kelpy. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I blame you. It’s just…”

“I know. We’re all in hard times right now. Let’s just keep moving.”

Eliwyn nodded after a moment, before starting to walk again. As she did, her bag wriggled briefly as the raccoon poked its head out. It climbed onto Eliwyn’s shoulder and chattered before sniffing at the night air. “Finally decided to rouse yourself then?” the halfling asked, pausing to let it climb down her arm and drop to the ground. “I hope the accommodations were to your liking. No chance you’d like to be useful for a change and find a shortcut?”

“Preferably near a stream or something so I can freshen up,” Kelpy added.

The raccoon tilted its head up at Eliwyn, before snorting and disappearing into the undergrowth to her left.

“Well?” Kelpy looked at Eliwyn.

The halfling shrugged, accompanied by a noise that hinted at how exhausted the small female felt. “I never know with that one. I say we keep moving and if there’s a shortcut, we’ll be made aware.”

Kelpy adjusted how she was holding the knight before nodding. “Fair enough. Let’s go.”

Eliwyn started forwarding, squinting in the dark to avoid low hanging branches or rocks on the path that could cause her or Kelpy injury. She certainly wasn’t about to start dragging both that poor man and Kelpy, and given how long it’d been since Kelpy had been in moving water she likely wouldn’t have the strength to manage Eliwyn as well as the man. After a while, the trees and brush began to thin out, and Eliwyn spotted what she thought was the main road in the distance. After a curse in her native halfling tongue, she turned towards Kelpy. “I got turned around. We’re not safe here.”

“It’s darker than a coal mine,” Kelpy replied before grunting as the man drooped further and nearly slid right off her shoulder before she’d caught him again. “And we don’t have time to bushwhack. I say we take the chance.”

Eliwyn huffed loudly, but then nodded. “Let’s just hope we aren’t come upon while we do this, I suppose.”

* * * * *

The raccoon trundled through the dark, small black eyes absorbing even the tiniest glints of light and using them to direct itself through the forest. _Eliwyn is heading for the road,_ it thought as it stopped and sniffed the air for a moment. _This is best. I can sense an opportunity to alter the current flow of events, coming from that way._ It made its way up a tree and focused its energy on changing its form. After a long moment of concentration, it shifted into a raven and stretched its wings wide with a harsh cry. _Sir Ethan needs more help than she or Kelpy know. If I time this right, I can help everyone._ It took to the air, pounding its new wings hard to reach the top of the trees and then gliding over towards the winding road.

_It’s been too long since I last flew,_ it thought as it soared over everything. _Though honestly, it’s been too long since I was last anything but a raccoon. Not that I resent it but… it would be too much to explain to Eliwyn, since she’s grown used to me like that. And being able to ride around on someone without expectations of returning the favor is nice too. And her bacon._ It started to drift downward at seeing movement on the road below, aiming for a few dozen feet ahead. _Must try and remember my manners. It’s been some time since I addressed royalty, after all._

It waited until the sound of hooves grew close enough for the riders to witness it, and transformed again, savoring the cries of surprise from those mounted on the horses before it. It rolled its head to adjust to being in its true form: a shimmering gray, human-shaped shadow, alternatively flickering between the patterning of ravens’ feathers, raccoons’ fur, and the stardust of countless galaxies. The humans all fell silent, before one of the men riding in front- _dressed in finery and soft living, not for riding this far out from the capital_ was the being’s first thought at taking a good look at the tall, plump man- spoke. “What… are you?”

The lone woman spoke before the being could address the question. “It’s a spirit guardian,” she whispered, sounding both excited and scared in the same moment. “I read about them when I was a girl. They are said to only appear to royalty, and only in times of crisis for their kingdom.”

“She speaks the truth,” the being replied softly and gently, smiling as the young woman looked pleased with herself. “I beg the pleasure of speaking to the one known as Prince Mark, if it so pleases him.”

Near the back, the very man dismounted and walked forwards. His expression was impassive, but the nervousness around his heart was what the guardian could sense as he drew closer. The being smiled ever so slightly as he dropped to one knee. “I am Prince Mark, of Lipier, spirit.”

“Rise, your highness. I am no greater than you are here. Both of us serve the people and lands of this realm.”

He rose to his feet again. “Then, please… what would you tell me, then?” He paused a moment before he continued. “Your wisdom in this matter would be of great help, and I would appreciate it more than I think I could say.”

_His adventures have taught him so much,_ the being thought with no small amount of pleasure. _I could not have asked for more if I had orchestrated this all. It is… reassuring to see this change in you, Prince Mark._ “I cannot say what I think you would like to hear, your highness. I have already muddled too much in the futures of your actions up to this point, as well as those of others who have been pulled into this moment in history.”

“For good or evil?” asked one of the other men.

The being looked up at him, searching his face with its featureless one. “Lord Wade, that is yet to be determined. I will admit, however, to tipping the scales in the favor of the Wylde Folk in some small ways.”

Prince Mark spoke again. “Then you are aligned with us, for the moment. We are returning there to assist them against my father’s forces.”

“For the moment, yes. Remember what I already said. I serve the people and the lands of this realm. That means _all_ people and lands.” As it spoke, it turned its head towards the direction it had just come from, as if hearing a voice calling out their name in the distance. _Eliwyn has found the road. It’s time._ It took a step back from the horses. “I will continue to watch you carefully, your highness. But remember it is not for me, but history, to judge you.” As the last word was spoken, it transformed once again into a raven and immediately took the air, turning to fly aware from the prince and his group.

_My piece in this game of chess has been moved,_ it thought as it turned to head back towards Eliwyn. _Now I can only hope that the rest of the board works in my favor._

* * * * *

Eliwyn was caught between her sense of loyalty and her sense of purpose as they walked down the road in the dark. Her purpose was telling her that they needed to move faster and farther to get the man that Kelpy now was carrying on his back the help he needed, but her loyalty was making her strides even shorter and slower than they already were with her halfling build. They still hadn’t seen the raccoon and while she’d overheard Kelpy’s mutterings about the animal finding its way back eventually like it always did, something still felt… off.

_Stop being silly, Eliwyn,_ she scolded herself. _The raccoon always catches up. It’s probably just found another raccoon or something to harrass for a change. You need to be responsible and focused right now._

She looked back at the same time that Kelpy glanced over Ethan’s head, both of them desperately trying to see whatever was making the noise in the distance.

“It sounds like horses,” Kelpy said, barely above a whisper.

Eliwyn looked around. The majority of the trees they had previously hidden in were behind them now, further than they could safely retreat to in time. They were currently surrounded by marshlands, but nothing deep enough for them to really use or any reeds or cattails to act as any sort of cover for them to utilize. She huffed out a sigh, trying to disguise it as irritation more than the frustration and fear that she was failing to ignore any longer. “We keep walking forward,” she replied just as softly, “and we pay them no mind, and hope that they aren’t paying attention since it’s late at night and we can at least pass for three humans in the dark.”

“We hope we can, anyways,” was Kelpy’s response, but she picked up the pace and hurried ahead. Eliwyn immediately followed, drawing the hood of her cloak up and moving closer to Kelpy’s side as the sound of the horses drew nearer. As they did, something warm and furry brushed her ankle and despite herself she screamed aloud. Kelpy jumped at the noise, nearly dropping Ethan, as Eliwyn looked down with flushed cheeks from her embarrassment and anger at being startled in such a way.

“You fat, stupid, awful- _thing_!” she hissed down at the raccoon, who merely sat up on its haunches and chittered. “Now I’ve given us away!”

“Less scolding, more running,” Kelpy said, reaching for Eliwyn’s shoulder. The hoofbeats were closer and had sped up. Eliwyn groaned and scooped the raccoon up, hugging it to her chest rather than wasting the time to put it into her bag.

“I’ll deal with your nonsense later, but your future now has much less bacon in it,” she snapped at the animal. The raccoon made a pathetic noise at the threat, but clung to the front of the halfling’s dress as she tried to catch up to Kelpy’s longer strides. The horses were nearly behind her. “Kelpy, Kelpy _run_ -!” she shouted, no longer caring about being heard by the riders. One rode past her and the raccoon, turning to cut Kelpy off from continuing forward. The nymph rocked back on its heels, scrambling to keep Ethan from falling off.

The rider, a tall man dressed in the clothes of nobility and with a light brown beard, spoke up. “They’ve Sir Ethan with them!”

As soon as the words left the man’s mouth, another horse rode up hard, this one with two men on its back. Both of them looked relieved, which hadn’t been the expression Eliwyn had been anticipating seeing on anyone that night. The one riding behind dismounted, immediately shaking dark hair out of his eyes while reaching for the man on Kelpy’s back. “Is he injured? We’ve been worrying about him for days.”

“Depends.” Eliwyn was startled all over again at how hard Kelpy’s voice was as the nymph turned slightly to block the man. “Are you with the Wylde Folk?”

The man paused a moment before nodding. “We are now. We’re fleeing the kingdom and wish to lend whatever help we can.”

“Please.” This came from a woman who had ridden up, accompanied with another man. “If you wish to get to the Wylde Folk, we can help you get there faster.”

The man who had dismounted reached for Ethan, before speaking again. “Which we’ll need to really do now. Sir Ethan’s got quite the fever.”

“We tried to fight the infection, but we found him already injured and unconscious in the woods.” Kelpy finally relented holding the man, and let the newcomers pull him onto the back of one of the horses, placing him behind the man who had initially stopped in front of the nymph.

“You at least helped as much as you could, and for that we thank you.” The man bowed to them both, before offering a hand to Kelpy to lift the nymph onto the back of another horse, this time behind another man well-dressed and tall but much rounder than the other. He then helped Eliwyn up onto the horse he dismounted from. “Sorry- introductions. Lord Wade, now carrying Sir Ethan. Sir Tyler, this is..”

“Eliwyn,” she filled in after a moment. “And that’s Kelpy.”

“Kelpy, meet Lord Robert. And that over there is Duchess Amy. And I’m… Mark.”

Kelpy tilted her head. “Only Mark? No title?”

“No, I’m just… me.” Strangely enough, he smiled at that, before moving to climb up behind the Duchess on her horse. “But we should move on. Sir Ethan needs to be looked at, and the roads aren’t safe right now.”

“Don’t we know that already,” Eliwyn muttered. In front of her, Sir Tyler snickered. “Are you making fun of me, sir knight?”

“No miss,” he answered after clicking his tongue to get his horse moving forward again. “Just appreciating your honesty.”

“Well… thank you, I think.” She looked around the group. “Do you know your way to the Wylde Folk, or..?”

Mark spoke up. “We do. We found them before.”

“Good. Because we need to get your friend there quickly. Kelpy helped out as much as she could with her magic, but he’s gotten worse as he’s tried to move with us.”

“Why are you two heading there?”

“We…” Eliwyn briefly entertained the idea of lying, but then the raccoon decided to scamper up onto her shoulder and pressed itself to her cheek. “My husband was taken by the goblins. I need help to go get him back.”

Duchess Amy spoke up. “That’s very noble of you. I don’t know that I would have the fortitude to go on that sort of a quest.”

Mark almost immediately replied from behind her. “I would disagree.”

In front of Eliwyn, SIr Tyler muffled a snort of laughter.

_I feel so out of my depth,_ Eliwyn thought to herself. _Maybe it’s from traveling with Kelpy for so long. I’m not at all used to integrating with a new group anymore. Or maybe it’s just humans. Goodness knows the Wylde Folks’ humans are a pretty odd bunch._

“When we arrive,” Mark said, “I can take you to someone in the Wylde Folk, Sean. He’s very helpful, and very skilled as a fighter. I think he’d be the best choice to help you with finding your husband.”

“Thank you.” _As if I don’t know who to speak to there. Everyone bloody knows Sean._ “I appreciate the suggestion.”

“I get the impression Sean was of great help to his hi-” Sir Tyler stopped himself. “Mark. He helped Mark.”

_So there is a title,_ Eliwyn immediately thought. _Someone needs to teach them how to be subtle. Or to lie._ She held her tongue, though, as they rode in silence. As they continued on, the raccoon crawled into her knapsack to doze off. Gradually she began to recognize the landmarks as they grew closer. Kelsey spoke up before she could. “We’re nearly there. Let either Eliwyn or me approach on our own.”

“Are you feeling up to it, Kelpy?” Eliwyn worried her lip for a moment. “I know that you’re feeling rather dry.”

“Don’t you fuss about it.” The nymph slid off Lord Robert’s horse in as easy-going a manner she could possibly go in the dark. Eliwyn watched as she went to the tree, placed her hand on its trunk, and tried to raise her voice to the note required for opening the gate.

After a long moment, Lord Wade spoke up. “It doesn’t appear to be working.”

“You don’t say,” Mark retorted immediately, though his tone was more teasing than malicious. He then looked at the halfling woman behind Sir Tyler. “Eliwyn, why don’t you give it a go?”

She immediately started to stammer out a response. “I- I’ve never been able to do it. Can’t get my voice high enough to do it.”

“Eliwyn, they’re not going to have passage. You need to try.” Kelpy gave her a worried look.

“All right, all right.” She swung her leg over and jumped down from the horse. As she walked to the tree, the raccoon emerged from her bag and climbed onto her shoulder. “Hello again you. Going to teach me to sing?”

The raccoon chirped briefly in response.

“I shouldn’t have expected a yes.” She walked up to the tree and pressed her hand to the trunk just as Kelpy had done. _Whatever magic that’s out there, just free and wild, please,_ she thought, _come to me and help me so we can get out of here and into the safety of the village. Please._ She then opened her mouth and tried for the note that she knew. It was weak and feeble, but she barely hit it. A moment later, the gates appeared and opened before the group. “...I actually did it.”

Before anyone could reply to her, a man ran up to the gates. “Mother of- Prince Mark, what are you doing back here?!”

“Prince?!” Kelpy whipped her head around to look at the man who had only introduced himself as Mark.

_Oh for pity’s sake, she’s_ that _dehydrated,_ Eliwyn groaned internally.

“I was the prince of Lipier. I’ve… abdicated the throne in light of current politics.”

“Well then.” The man grinned and walked forward. “To the newcomers, I’m Sean. Welcome to the Wylde Folk. Come on in, and we’ll get you settled in.”

“Sean, if I could pull you aside first-” Eliwyn started, but Sir Tyler had already started his horse forward and there was chatter from all the humans at seeing the village for the first time. She sighed irritably but did not speak up. They were led to the center of the village so the horses could be watered and put into what little extra stable space they had.

Eliwyn waited, and waited, and Sean was animatedly talking to the two lords while Prince Mark was speaking quietly with Duchess Amy. Kelpy was busy at the well rehydrating herself, and Sir Tyler was just coming back from lugging Sir Ethan to the village’s healer. She could feel every bit of her rage and grief that she had been stamping down for days now vibrating within her at watching all this. _They’re all just standing around doing nothing after I’ve been slogging through the woods and dragging a sick man about…_ Before she could stop herself, she spoke aloud. “All to find some damned help to find Kormo before the goblins kill him-!”

The group suddenly fell silent and were all staring at her. Sean broke the silence first. “Eliwyn- why didn’t you come right to us?”

“Because you’ve other battles to fight, Prince Sean,” she returned, trying to sound assertive but hating the knot that hard formed in her throat. “And because Kelpy and I were the ones to find that knight, Sir Ethan, and we had to move at the best pace for him.”

“If he’s missing, then that’s the battle we need to fight first.” He immediately turned on his heel. “I’ll go get Robin and Signe. Prince-”

“Mark, Sean. I’m not going by a title any more.”

The other man looked puzzled for a moment before he continued. “Mark, then. Figure out who’s coming from your group. We have some idea of where the goblin camp is. We’re off as soon as we can to find Kormo.”

“I don’t want to drag more people than necessary into this-” Eliwyn protested.

“You potentially saved Ethan from dying alone in the forest,” Mark said, kneeling before her. Eliwyn’s eyes went wide at the gesture. “I mean to return the kindness to you.”

“I’ll accompany you, Mark.” This came from Sir Tyler.

“I will remain here,” said Duchess Amy.

“I think Lord Wade and I should as well. I know that I’m definitely not ready for combat.” Lord Robert said this, and Lord Wade nodded.

“Very well. You two try and monitor any news from the palace. I would like to stay on top of what my father and cousin plan to do in my absence.”

“Of course, your highness.” Eliwyn couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her at the look Mark gave Lord Robert as he stood up once more.

“In the meantime, Eliwyn and Kelpy, do what you must to ready yourselves. We’ll ride out to find your husband as soon as possible.”

She looked up at the man and nodded. “Of course. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I want to make sure this is done, and done right, before I’ll take any thanks for what I do.”

She smiled faintly. “I get that.” _Please hang on, Kormo. I’m coming with help now, and I think that we can get you out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long- the last few weeks have been crazy and I struggled with this chapter. I finally found the words tonight though!  
> Thanks to everyone who's been reading it!


	17. Space and Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are multiple fires to be tended tonight.

She turned away from the doorway that she had been lingering in after stepping away from the group, watching the rest of the group devising their plans in the town square. She lowered her hood and shook out her hair with a sigh as she went to sit by Sir Ethan’s bedside, folding her hands in her lap and looking at the floor with a very intent expression while the healer that had been roused by the commotion set to work looking the young knight over while clicking her tongue between yawns.

_In the last day or so, my life has completely changed,_ she mused to herself. _I’ve likely lost my title, perhaps my relationship with my family… More than likely my name is being dragged through the mud of society for my ‘role in the prince’s murder’ or whatever it was Damien charged me with. Knowing how he acts, the news of our jailbreak is already all over the city now._ She shook her head, almost involuntarily. She had always felt unwanted, alien in all the high class parties and teas and soirees. She knew this was because her father had “bought” her title by offering her to the king as a bride for the prince, but what they had never known was just how much she hated it more than they did. How she wanted to stand in the middle of their events and scream that she didn’t belong there just as much as they didn’t want her there. How she wanted her old life back, when she was a child and allowed the joys of running through her family’s orchards, helping the farmhands pick apples, roaming the edge of her family’s property to get scratched up by brambles in search of wild blackberries, climbing trees to hide in the highest branches with a book, to be allowed to get dirty and to feel things again...

...how until very recently, she wasn’t even interested in being _around_ said prince unless she absolutely had to be in the name of a “proper courting”. Having the same conversation with him- well, lecture, if she was being honest with herself since she had given up on trying to contribute anything beyond a patient smile and an occasional head nod- about conquering these people whose walls they were now behind, every time, was exhausting. She was told over and over, every time that she had protested the arrangement and the repeated, forced interactions, that it was just how things were for a young woman who had an aristocratic title and the attention of a royal to foster and grow. How princes and princesses only married based upon “true love” in stories, and how peasants married on whims and found out later that they couldn’t stand each other so she should consider herself fortunate that she had escaped that kind of unhappiness down the road. But now… her fingers caught her skirt, gripping it up in a way that would have made her tutors and mother panic at the idea of wrinkles setting in.

Now he was… multifaceted, like a diamond cut and set perfectly by a master jeweler. He walked taller and spoke with more grace and charm. He was warmer and more patient. Whatever had happened to him in this encampment, while he was “captive” here… it had changed him for the better, as far as she was concerned. She released her tense hands and smoothed the wrinkles away, trying to ignore the fact that she could feel the steady rush of heat crossing her face as she began to blush. _I’ve spent so much time just_ tolerating _him that to actually, finally feel like I want to be near him and may actually… grow to love him… it’s so foreign._ She got to her feet and started towards the door, calling over her shoulder to the healer that she had no stomach for medical procedures when asked where she was darting off to. Not that such a thing was necessarily true; she more wished to be alone with her thoughts for a moment. The healer probing her fingers into the wound in Sir Ethan’s leg simply looked like the perfect opportunity for her as a lady to duck out of the hut and to find somewhere private.

Her walking immediately into someone’s chest as she opened the door, however, finally removed herself from her thoughts for a moment. She looked up and inwardly panicked at seeing Prince Mark looking down at her. “Duchess Amy,” he said, pleasantly enough. “I’m sorry, I should have knocked first.”

“Oh, no, no, I should be minding where I’m going. Must be how tired I am getting to me,” she stammered in response. “Please, excuse me.” She stepped backwards with a curtsy so he could go by her.

“Please, you needn’t do that around me any longer.” He smiled briefly at her, and she tried to not let it get to her. He started to go past her, but hesitated. “And if I may, would you wait a moment for me? I would just like to ask about Sir Ethan’s condition, and then… well, I have to admit, I’ve been wishing to speak to you in private. If you are agreeable to that.”

“Of course,” she said, managing to sound calm about it. “I will await you outside.”

“Thank you.” He then turned to the healer to ask his questions, and she slipped outside into the chilled night air, taking a deep breath once the door had closed behind her.

_Whatever could he want to discuss with me?_ she thought as she looked up at the sky, briefly taking in the stars while pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. _Perhaps he found a girl while he was captive here and he’s going to marry her instead. Maybe a man._ She wasn’t sure if she found this ridiculous or terrifying, given her own change of heart towards him recently, and muffled a laugh. _I’m overtired and it’s making me act hysterical,_ she told herself internally in the firmest tone she could imagine. _I just need to focus and not embarrass myself, and then go get some sleep._

She walked towards the first landmark she noticed that wasn’t a building, which was a huge pine tree next to the well. After stopping at the well long enough to draw up some water so she could have a drink, she went and sat under the pine, looking up into its branches. Her hands found a fallen pine cone, so she kept her fingers busy by fidgeting with it as she sat and waited.

After only a few minutes, she heard him calling for her. She scrambled to her feet and made her way out from under the tree, only realizing then that she had picked the spot where she was perfectly obscured from view.

“I’m sorry for making you wait out here in the cold,” he immediately said as she stepped out.

_He’d never even apologized for making me wait before,_ she immediately thought, but brushed it aside as she answered. “It wasn’t that long of a wait your hi- Mark. I’m sorry; that’s going to take some getting used to.”

He smiled at that. “Don’t worry. I’m still getting used to the idea myself.” He then reached for her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. It was a gesture she was used to seeing from him, but this time it seemed more meaningful and less like he was simply following a routine.

“I’d imagine you are.” She folded her hands together. “You did have something you wished to ask me, though.”

“Well… less to ask you. I just wanted to make sure of how you were doing, given…” He hesitated before he gestured vaguely around with one hand. “Everything.”

“I think I’m doing all right,” she replied, trying to not let the amusement show in her voice. She wasn’t at all used to him not having everything just so and ready to say to her, as he always had during their meetings in the palace. “I have always said that I wanted an adventure.”

“You’d never said as much to me.”

“I never thought it was appropriate to say to you. I believe it was my mother who said it would look like bad manners to sit with the man I’m courting and say that I wanted to be anywhere else.”

“Would it make you feel less impolite if I told you I feel the same?” She started to reply, and he held up a hand. “And not just that idea of raiding here, forcing their allegience, that I used to go on and on about. That was me before I learned better. There are other kingdoms I want to see for myself, not to just read about in books or learn about in lectures. I need to see how others rule so I can be a better ruler for my people.”

“...really?”

“Truly. I used to think all that was a waste of my time and that I just needed to emulate my father. But being forced to look at everything from a new perspective… it’s like thinking you know what it’s like here because you’ve always looked down at it from the moon, and then one day you’re here and you realize you really never knew anything about it at all.”

“You’re very articulate as well as introspective nowadays, your highness.” She pressed her fingertips to his lips to stop him from interjecting. “It’s a good look for you.”

He blushed at that, ducking his head. “I think you flatter me too much.”

“I think I’m speaking the truth. But as you’ve just said, it’s likely a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”

“I- I suppose so,” he stammered out.

_I’m being too forward. He’s getting overwhelmed,_ she thought as she took a half-step backwards. “Are you sure of this endeavor?”

He gave her a long look before he replied. “What, us going with Sean and Eliwyn?”

“Yes, that. You’re going towards an army, after all. And goblins are terribly subversive. There’s likely to be traps outside their camp.”

He gave her a confused look. “For a duchess, you’re alarmingly well versed in military tactics.”

“All I can say is that I paid attention to everything we talked about while we were together.”

He made a soft noise. “I hope you never stop surprising me.” He looked straight at her and smiled. “I do appreciate your concern, though. Sean knows the woods almost as well as a dryad, and I’m sure there’ll be others going with us to make sure we all get in and out safely.”

“Still, promise me that you’ll be careful.” The words escaped her before she even registered that she was saying them, and she felt the heat of herself blushing begin.

“For you? Of course I’ll be.” And with that, he leaned in and kissed her, ever so briefly, on the mouth. Her breath disappeared like fog on a clear summer morning, and in spite of herself she even leaned into him for a split second, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. When their lips parted, she could only blink at him for the first few moments.

Behind Mark, someone cleared their throat. Amy immediately took a step back, blushing anew. Mark looked over his shoulder.

“If I’m not interrupting anything, I thought we might talk about our course of action for this rescue?” Sean asked, looking and sounding terribly amused as he did. “We all ought to get some sleep before we head out to do this, and we’re losing time to do so.”

“That’s a valid point,” Mark said with a sigh. He looked back at her and kissed her cheek. “We’ll talk - _really_ talk - when I return. I promise you that as well. Now go get some rest.”

She nodded, her smile tired but genuine. “I look forward to it.”

Mark watched her as she put her hood back up and turned to head towards the building where Lord Wade and Lord Bob were also walking towards. Once she had disappeared inside, he turned towards Sean. “Well?”

“I spoke with Robin and Signe, and they’re both willing and ready to help. I’m trying to reach Danny and Arin, but they were heading towards the mountains last I heard. Something about a dwarven ritual called the hour of power, I think. And your man Sir Tyler plans to accompany us too.”

“Even if we don’t have Danny or Arin, I think we have a large enough group with six people.”

Sean nodded at that. “I’d agree. Honestly I was only hoping we could get Danny for help from any local dryad near the war camp.” He folded his arms over his chest. “There is one last thing, though. Something I’d like to do for you and Sir Tyler both.”

“Certainly. What is it?”

“I’ll explain once we’re there. We need to find Sir Tyler first.”

Mark nodded and followed him as they started walking the square, quickly finding Sir Tyler as he was in the stable tending the horses that he, Mark, and the duchess and lords had ridden from Lipier. He followed without any questions, and Sean led them both through the square and then weaving through small home gardens and around corners of homes, towards the very far side of the village that was abutted against the forest and hills. Back in the very corner was a spring, its water flowing from a rock that jutted out of a tangle of tree roots. From those same roots rose above them quite possibly the biggest oak tree that Mark had ever seen in his life, and he felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck spring up as they drew closer.

“This place is powerful, isn’t it.” This came from Sir Tyler, who spoke it as fact rather than as a question.

“Indeed it is. Old magic’s here.” Sean stopped and turned around to face the two other men. “As the story goes, that oak is an old dryad who’d fallen in love with the nymph of a pond that ran through here, and she loved him in return. But another, the spirit of the mountain just west of us, wanted the nymph and she had spurned him, so he sealed her within himself so she could never be free. The dryad set himself to the task of freeing her, imprisoning himself as well to this hillside so that she one day would be able to escape the rock walls around her.” He rested a hand on one of the roots, looking up at the tree briefly. “The elders say that the water that flows out are actually her tears, partly of joy at her beloved succeeding and partly of grief for what he gave up for her, and that the nymph actually remains behind this rock so that she is never too far from him.”

“That’s beautiful,” the knight said, the first to break the short silence that followed.

“I’ve always thought so, too.” Sean looked past them, and Mark and Sir Tyler both glanced over their shoulders. Signe and Robin had joined them at some point during Sean’s story. “I asked them to join us for this.”

“This being..?”

“Anyone who joins the village, be it from birth or from outside its walls, is marked with this water.” This came from Signe. “The magic of the nymph guards us from dangers outside of our domain, and allows us entrance when we return home.”

Sir Tyler looked skeptical. “Really?”

Robin quietly spoke a spell in a foreign language, gesturing towards the spring as he did, and all three of the Wylde Folk present were suddenly glowing faintly. After a moment the glow faded. “Yes, really,” the elf said with a small grin.

Sir Tyler looked at Mark, who nodded after a moment. Sean waved the former prince forward. “Speak your name that the Wylde Folk will know you by,” he said, sounding more formal and dignified than he had at any point in the two men knowing each other, and Mark made a choked noise as he nearly laughed aloud at it.

“I’m- I will be known as Mark Prince, I think? I guess?”

Signe chuckled at that. “A fitting name, I think.”

Sean nodded and dipped a cupped hand into the spring, then raised it over Mark’s head and tipped it, sending the cool water rushing through his hair and over his face. “Known to us as Mark Prince,” he intoned. “Friend of the Wylde Folk from outside our walls, but now granted entrance within in response to his valor and kinship with us in times of trouble. May he always honor this trust.”

“I will,” he replied.

“You aren’t _supposed_ to say anything there, you git,” Sean immediately fired back with a grin. “But I’m glad to hear that you will.” He waved Tyler over, and Mark stepped out of the way. Sean cleared his throat and resumed the more serious tone he had taken initially with Mark. “Speak your name that the Wylde Folk will know you by.”

He looked straight ahead, calm and poised. “Tyler Knight.”

Sean reached up to tip the water over Tyler’s head, same as he had done to Mark. “Known to us as Tyler Knight, friend of the Wylde Folk from outside our walls, but now granted entrance within in response to his valor and kinship with us in times of trouble. May he always honor this trust.” Tyler stepped back with a nod, and Sean turned to face the group. “Now that we have that settled. Signe, is Eliwyn-”

“Already asleep. Kelpy says they’ve been hiking for days and only stopped to sleep for the night, so I’m not surprised that she crashed as quickly as she did.”

“Good. We should go sleep as well. We ride out at dawn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus I hope this chapter wasn't too squishy. I tried to keep it from getting there but I worry I still overdid it. We get back into the more actiony bits in the next chapter though!  
> Thank you so much for reading! If you leave kudos or a comment too, thank you for that as well!


	18. Into the Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the hills far above the village of the Wylde Folk there is a forest known as the Deep. Its trees grow thick and tall, and to those who do not know its trails it is an impenetrable maze.  
> This is where our story takes us.

They arose to something that could be called morning if one felt like being polite: the air was sharp and thin with the cold of an early frost, and the sky was nothing but a blanket of gray. Everyone was yawning hugely and stretching out cold-tensed muscles as they saddled horses and finalized contents of backpacks and saddlebags. Mark watched as the rest of the group bustled around him: while he was still standing there, dulled from only being half-awake, Sean was discussing potential trails to take with Robin and Tyler, Signe and Eliwyn were busy figuring out the most efficient way to pack the rations, and Kelpy was manipulating water from the well into various canteens and waterskins. As he watched, Tyler broke away from his conversation and came over to thump him on the shoulder. “You doing all right, your highness?” he said with a grin.

“I dropped that title,” he replied immediately, “and yes, I am. Worrying about leaving the village without people to defend it, as well as Ethan’s state, but… I think I’m okay.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I spoke to the healer last night before going to sleep. His color’s improved a fair bit. She thinks he may have a bum leg for a while given the infection, but he should recover fully if he takes it easy for a couple months.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” Mark reached and put a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “I owe you two so much. When all this is done, I want to make sure that I repay you both for everything.”

“You needn’t worry about that. And I think Ethan will feel the same. It’s not like you could have expected everything that’s happened to us lately.”

“I didn’t mean about that part. I believe I said everything.” He looked up at the knight, who finally nodded with a smile.

“We’ll figure that part out later. Right now, we need to mount up and ride out.”

“Of course.” He looked at the horse he was borrowing, a slight brown gelding that didn’t appear sturdy enough for farmwork, let alone potentially riding multiple days across hills and through forest. “I miss Thunder.”

“I’m sure he misses you too.” Tyler stepped aside to help Kelpy mount up, while Mark headed towards his before he noticed Eliwyn just standing in the midst of everything with that implausibly large knapsack of hers on her back and her pet raccoon in her arms. He paused and looked at her before speaking.

“And where is your mount, Eliwyn?”

She immediately went red and looked away with a scowl on her face. “Weren’t enough, so I’m to ride with someone. Kelpy’s in the same boat, but she chose to ride with that knight of yours. And apparently there’s no ponies to offer little old me.”

“Has anyone offered their horse to you yet?”

“Not a one. Signe is to ride with Sean, sure as shooting. And Robin’s carrying extra gear so he needs a horse to himself-” She stopped, realizing at the same moment as Mark what that meant. “Oh no, your highness. I’ll walk. Wouldn’t want to make the prince of Lipier have to ride out with a halfling in front of him.”

“Two things, Eliwyn,” he said, kneeling in front of her. “One, I’m not the prince any longer. I may have been born as one, but I will not be called by that title until I think I’ve earned it. -And two, I would be honored to ride out with you guiding this fine horse through these hills. I’m sure you know them much better than I do.”

She gave him a very long look, lips pursed, before shrugging. “Well, you’re not wrong about the second part.” She gracelessly passed the raccoon to him as she neatly scrambled up the tack on the horse to seat herself on the saddle, neatly tucking her skirts under herself in one motion as she sat so she could ride astride the saddle. “Come along then! Sean’s starting to look antsy, and goodness knows I’d like to find out how my husband is.”

He chuckled softly. “Of course. -Up we get… what’s your raccoon’s name?”

“I don’t name a thing of the forest. She isn’t even rightly _mine_. I just refer to her as ‘Raccoon’. Or ‘silly thing’. Or ‘useless’.” The raccoon chittered briefly in response. “Don’t you make that noise at me! You’ve earned those last two just from being underfoot when I’m trying to cook!”

He climbed up and perched the raccoon on his shoulder. “I’ll go with Raccoon.”

“Suit yourself.” She took the reins in her hands and called out towards Sean. “Ready here.”

Sean stretched himself as tall as he could in his saddle to take in the group. “Looks like everyone else is as well. Let’s go ahead and start out so we can make the most of the daylight we’ll be getting today. If the clouds are saying anything, it’ll be dark early tonight. We try to ride close together as much as we can to eliminate anyone getting targeted or anyone falling behind. Clear?” When everyone answered him in the affirmative, he waved and the group rode through the gate and started on a trail up into the woods.

Mark almost immediately dozed off as the raccoon burrowed her way under his cloak and curled into the curve where his neck and shoulder met. He awoke to the sun breaking through the clouds and filtering through the trees, turning the air around them into a kaleidoscope of crimsons, golds and greens. The raccoon was still asleep under his cloak, though it made a noise of protest as he brought an arm up to drop his hood and jostled her slightly. Eliwyn had been humming to herself but stopped when she realized he was moving. “Well hello again,” she said with a grin. “I didn’t think you’d sleep that long.”

“I didn’t think I was capable of sleeping on a horse, period,” he replied as he stretched out his arms as wide as he could, now earning more irate chattering from the raccoon. “I’m learning new things about myself all the time nowadays, it seems.”

“My mother always says that sleep is the best medicine. -And feel free to move her, she’ll get over it.”

The raccoon made an irritated-sounding noise before climbing out from under the cloak, loudly chuffing out her nose before moving behind him and curling up on the horse’s hindquarters with her back to them both. He shook his head with a grin before facing forward again, just in time to see Eliwyn taking a sig of something from a flask. “What’s that?”

“Dawn tea. I made some up last night before I went to sleep, so it’d be ready for this morning. It’s my dad’s version of it.”

“What’s dawn tea?”

“Dried fruits like apple and berries, a little dried orange peel, cinnamon, some wild cherry bark, and- my dad’s variation on the recipe- a touch of willow bark to help deal with any aches and pains.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing. We only had dried black tea leaves at the palace.”

“Well, you did just say that you keep learning new things, right?” She held the flask out. “Give it a try.”

He took the flask and sipped at it. It was floral and fruity and spicy and earthy all at once, and while it didn’t taste bad he wasn’t at all sure how he felt about it. His face must have reflected this, because she started laughing as soon as he started to react. “It’s… interesting,” he finally mustered after a moment.

“If you’d like to give it a second chance tomorrow morning, I’ve honey I can add to it,” she replied with a grin. “That’s the only way Kormo will drink it. I prefer it unsweetened.”

“I’d be game for that, I think.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” This came from Robin, who had pulled his own horse up to slow down so he could walk alongside them. “How did Kormo come to be captured in the first place? He’s no warrior or spy.”

Eliwyn was quiet for a long moment, so Mark interjected. “Why does it matter? If he was captured, he was captured. What’s important is getting him back.”

“I’m not saying anything but that, but Kormo was my lead assistant in my work crafting weapons. He’s an amazing blacksmith and can repair nearly anything that I can build, and he’s fiercely loyal and dedicated to whatever he puts his mind to. That’s part of why I was surprised to find him gone- I assumed he’d gotten word that something had happened to _you_.”

“He got word to me via Kelpy.” Eliwyn’s voice was very small and quiet. “Well, via other nymphs, but Kelpy delivered the news to me directly. You’d left the workshop for the night, and he was busy tidying up and bunking down the fires, and the next thing he knew the place was filled with goblins. They were looking for you, Robin. Not by name, but by reputation - ‘the one who makes all the weapons’ was what they told Kormo. He lied and said it was him, assuming they were just going to wreck the place and beat him up. Instead, they kidnapped him. He told me to tell you and Sean and the elders, to tell them what happened,” and here her voice started to harden and get that edge back to it again, “but I wasn’t about to just sit around and wait for someone else to save him. And a good thing I did, too! Who would’ve found that poor boy Ethan if I hadn’t been making my way to you?”

Robin just chuckled. “You are such a little mother sometimes, Winnie.”

“I told you not to call me that, and I am not.”

Robin glanced over her head at Mark, who immediately brought his hands up. “I’m not getting to the middle of this. I only know both of you a little but I’m pretty sure she’d knock me down first.”

“Good answer,” she replied.

“Either way though, he shouldn’t have felt like he needed to protect me.” Robin frowned, looking away. “He’s smart enough to have gotten away without getting into a fight with them. And he knows I can handle myself.”

“He thought he was saving you getting jumped by a group of goblins,” Eliwyn fired back. “Can’t you just be grateful?”

“Guys! Both of you, stop.” Mark wasn’t entirely sure why he was jumping in, but they had both shut up and looked at him expectantly. “He made his choice, and at the time he thought it was the best choice. There’s no changing the past, so there’s no sense in fighting about something that’s long over and done. We can only do what we think is right in the here and now. Okay?”

Robin smirked slightly. “Well said, your highness.”

Mark fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Thank you. Now then…” His voice trailed off as he glanced forward. They were about to ride into a group of pine trees, so thickly gathered that the air temperature had dropped a couple degrees at least and the light had all but disappeared from above them.

“Welcome to the Deep, Mark.” This came from Sean, who was speaking over his shoulder from the front. “This is unofficially where human boundaries end.”

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke up. “Ride on.”

“You heard the man!” Eliwyn cried out before Sean could reply, causing both Robin and Signe to start laughing.

“All right, all right, we’re going! Jeez...” Sean clicked his tongue at his horse and they started making their way between the trees. Their pace slowed considerably as riders and horses moved to avoid branches or roots.

Mark, meanwhile, looked around at the expanse of dark green needles and gray-brown bark, craning his neck to take it in. “It’s like an army with how tightly they’re set together,” he said softly.

“There’s a legend that they were, actually,” Eliwyn answered. “Duck.” Mark bent over to avoid getting hit in the face by a branch, and she continued. “Supposedly there were words exchanged long ago between an elf general and a dwarf prince about who the Deep should belong to. No one else took the argument seriously, but the two of them were adamant about defending their claims. The dwarf marched his personal guard out from the peak of the mountain above us, and the elf had the troops under his command station themselves here. Neither would give it up, so after time passed the elves turned to these pines, and the dwarves turned into boulders further up at the edge of the treeline. -Duck again.”

He very nearly caught that branch across the forehead from being so wrapped up in the story, but managed to move in time so he wasn’t hurt. “There’s all these amazing stories that I’ve never heard, all because my father refused to acknowledge these other races…”

“Don’t encourage her to keep talking, or she’ll never stop,” Kelpy called from the back of Tyler’s horse.

“No one asked for your input, Kelpy!”

Mark looked to the front of the group. Robin had ridden ahead again, and Sean was looking back at him and speaking quietly. _He feels responsible for Eliwyn’s husband being taken,_ he realized while looking at the elf’s face in profile, a worried frown just visible in the low light. _He may be flippant and tease her about worrying, but it’s because he’s in the same boat as she is. And she can’t see that he’s just as scared because she’s been running on… whatever she’s running on. I honestly don’t know if this is how people in love react to their partner being in danger or if she’s just a little crazy._ In spite of himself, he chuckled aloud. _Heh. Little crazy. That was a good one._

“What did you put in your dawn tea last night to have him giggling to himself..?” Kelpy fixed the man with a concerned look.

“I didn’t do anything different.” Eliwyn glanced over her shoulder, one eyebrow arched. “You all right back there?”

“Sorry, I… just remembered a joke I heard a while back,” he replied after an awkward beat.

“All right then.” Eliwyn turned back around to face forward. He fell silent, looking all around as the group continued riding through the trees. After about an hour by his estimates, Sean held up a hand, and everyone came to a halt.

“We’re going to break for a meal and to let everyone rest and stretch,” he said as he dismounted and reached to help Signe down. “After that, we ride until the light’s gone and then we’ll make camp for the night.”

Mark immediately swung his leg around carefully to not knock Eliwyn down, reaching up to offer assistance to her once his feet were on the ground. She gave him a look for a moment before reaching for his hands. He grinned in spite of himself as he helped her down.

“What’s got you giddy all of a sudden?” she asked as she rearranged her skirts.

“Call it the high of slowly earning someone’s respect, I suppose,” he replied, “rather than having it thrust upon me because of a title.”

She smiled faintly at that. “I’ll have to slow down a little then, if something as simple as letting you help me off the horse has you all worked up like this.”

Behind her, Tyler snorted, clearly trying to fight a laugh.

“Please feel free to laugh at my expense, Tyler,” Mark said with a shake of his head, before raking a hand through his hair to try and force it into some kind of order. “I believe that is what Eliwyn’s trying to accomplish here. And that it’s probably very overdue for some foolishness or another I’ve committed in the past.”

“I may not still be your knight protector, but I will still try to maintain your honor,” the other man responded, though there was still a laugh in his voice and a grin on his face. He then disappeared to gather kindling. Mark turned and watched Robin put together a slapdash fire pit while Eliwyn dug through her bag to pull out the ingredients of lunch. Once Tyler returned with an armload of wood, Robin got the fire lit, and a few minutes later Eliwyn was handing around dried apples and dried venison jerky, along with slices of cheese and brown bread. Everyone sat around the fire, eating and making small talk. After a time, Tyler and Robin left to scout ahead a bit to make sure their planned path was safe to ride along, and Eliwyn got up.

“Sean? A word, if I could.”

The man nodded and got to his feet, starting to follow her but then stopping. “Mark. Come with.”

Mark blinked, immediately looking as confused as Eliwyn looked suspicious and irritated. He nodded and rose to his feet, however, hoping that this wasn’t going to jeopardize the faith that Eliwyn had decided to place in him. Sean led them away from the group so they had some privacy, though it wasn’t until they had lost sight of everyone that Eliwyn finally spoke. “What’s the big idea, Sean?”

“I’m making sure the air gets cleared. I plan on pulling you aside with Robin as well, just so you at least know ahead of time.” He sat down on a fallen tree, looking squarely at the halfling. “I’ve known you ever since your family started coming to the village, and Kormo once he started tagging along after you. Why didn’t you come straight to us? The elders-”

“The elders wouldn’t have done diddly shit and you know that just as good as I do!” Eliwyn snapped, barely keeping her voice down. Mark immediately froze: the last time he’d heard a woman swear was a maid who had broken something while cleaning in the palace when he was still a boy, and she’d been dismissed on the spot. He’d thought that he would never hear a woman say anything like that again. _But here we are, and oh how everything I thought was certain has completely changed,_ he thought, as Eliwyn exhaled loudly and continued. “It would have been ‘oh are you sure that he was taken, are you sure that it was goblins, we ought to hide and wait and see’, just the same as it is about everyone who’s disappeared. Everyone says halflings are lazy; well this one’s not about to sit around and watch the grass grow when I could _do_ something!” Her cheeks were bright red and her fists clenched in frustration. There were tears gathering on her lashes, one finally spilling down her cheek. “I would have gone alone but Kelpy talked me into at least telling _you_.”

Sean frowned, moving to kneel in front of her instead. “...I’m sorry, Eliwyn. We’ve said for months now that we would keep Kormo safe when he came to us to help Robin out, and we failed you. And I understand how you feel about the elders.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure out how to get him back safe. I promise you that.”

Her hands finally relaxed, and her head dropped slightly. After a pause, she replied. “I believe you, Sean.”

“Good. -Go and see to the fire getting doused, would you? Robin and Tyler should be back by now, and I’d like us saddled up as soon as we can.”

“Yes, your highness,” she shot back, and laughingly dodged a kick that Sean faked in her direction as she darted between the trees.

“She seems… complicated,” Mark finally said once he was sure she was out of earshot.

“Once you get to know her, she’s harmless. She likes to put up a front of being too tough or proud, to keep people at arm’s length until she figures out if she likes them or not. Though honestly, she’s practically the big sister to a lot of us back home.”

“Wait- she’s older than you?”

“Yes,” Sean answered with a laugh. “Don’t let the size trick you into thinking she’s younger than us. She’s a couple years older than me. -Of course, in halfling years that makes her still a young adult, but she’s considered mature for her age by their standards.”

“Does this mean she still doesn’t entirely like me?”

“I saw her let you try the tea earlier. She’s closer to liking you than you think.” Sean slapped him on the shoulder. “She just gets feisty about Kormo since he’s had a lot of hurt in his life. Lost his father a few years ago, and he disappeared himself for a couple years. Came back saying he found the centaurs and lived with them while he was gone, but not a lot of people believe him and make fun of him for saying as much.”

Mark frowned at that. “That’s awful.”

Sean shrugged. “That’s halflings for you. Sometimes they just decide what they believe and there’s no force in this world to change their minds. Come on, we should get ba-”

His words were interrupted by a pained shriek from the direction of the fire. The two looked at each other briefly before breaking into a run, slapping branches out of the way in order to get through the undergrowth as quickly as they could manage. They stumbled out at roughly the same time to see Eliwyn on the ground, arms over her face and shaking with silent sobs, and Robin kneeling next to her with his head bowed.

“What-?” Sean looked from face to face for an answer.

Tyler cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable at being the messenger. “We found the goblins’ camp. It’s deserted and clearly has been for at least a week or so. And we couldn’t find any way to determine which way they went after they abandoned the camp.” He hesitated and then continued. “And there were bloodied clothes that Robin identified as Kormo’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry it's taken me a month, I had a bad bout of writers block for a couple weeks as well as some health issues that were making it hard to focus on writing. Finally got it to a state that I'm proud of! And I also wanted to get this up before I'm mostly offline for a few days due a family trip so here it is! I hit 100 pages with this chapter in my Google doc for it and guys there's still _so much more story..._  
>  I hope some of my readers like mythology stuff because I started exploring that in this chapter. At some point I'd really like to do a whole write up on the world building but tonight won't be that night haha. Also if anyone's interested in related art, I posted a drawing I did of Sean in the mask mentioned in earlier chapters to my Insta. https://www.instagram.com/p/BmZ6h5kAPGt/  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


	19. Let You Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group continues on in light of their discovery.

The rest of the day’s ride was dead quiet, save for the shifting of gear or plodding of hooves as they passed through the remainder of the Deep and emerged above the tree line. Mark looked around at the boulders Eliwyn had mentioned in her tale earlier that day while trying his hardest to ignore the woman’s soft crying in front of him. Earlier she had been sitting up, stiff and straight, guiding the horse with silent touches and just the occasional sniffle, but after a time she had folded over the pommel with a huge sob. Mark had gently moved the reins from her hands and took over the responsibility of steering their mount so that she could continue to mourn. Robin was the only one of the group to remain near them, his satchels full of gear clinking every so often as a counterpoint to Eliwyn’s noisier grief. He stayed silent, but his hunched shoulders and lowered head told the entire story of how he felt regardless. The rest stayed within earshot, but far enough ahead to not seem intrusive.

Mark hated every moment of it.

It wasn’t that the halfling’s tears irritated him: he felt horrible on her behalf, his own eyes tearing up for her. Instead he was realizing that the last time that he had really been allowed to feel anything about another person was when his mother had passed in his childhood, and that he had no words or actions in place in order to comfort someone in face of such tragedy. He had been taught histories and philosophies, geography and astronomy, math and the manners of the court, how to wage war and how to determine if taxes should be raised, but never how to empathize. _I was not made to be a person… only a prince, and then a king,_ he realized. _I am more an idea than a man._ He looked over to the west and the setting sun as Eliwyn sat up, scuffing the last tears away with the back of her hand.

“We’ll likely be making camp soon.” He started at her speaking, having not expected her to say anything after her crying jag. “What?”

He decided to opt for honesty, rather than attempt to lie or be glib and risk insulting her. “I suppose that I assumed you wouldn’t be much for talking after… everything.”

She made a soft noise that he supposed was meant to be a laugh. “One gets tired of crying after a while, I guess.”

“I can see that.” He looked up at the rest of the group, but no one else was slowing. “I am sorry for your loss. I can’t even fathom-”

“Please.” She put a small hand on his arm, looking up at him once he’d fallen quiet. Her expression was stern, but still shaken. “Don’t. If we’re to get this done, I- I can’t hear that right now.”

“Hear what?”

“The apologies, the beatitudes, the memorializing. Just. Not right now. If I’m to be of any help in this adventure now, I need to ignore how… how _raw_ my heart is right now.”

Mark felt lost for words all over again. Finally, he ventured, “I’ll save those for later. When you’re feeling a little more prepared for it.”

She smiled ever so briefly at that, nodding as the expression faded into fatigue. “I’ll take you up on it when I’m ready.”

From ahead, Sean called back. “We’re stopping for the night. Time to set up camp and get some dinner in us.”

Robin wordlessly sped up his horse, riding up to the rest of the group and speaking to Sean in quiet tones as the rest of the group disembarked their mounts and started removing bags and saddles. Mark directed them over to the group, getting down and helping Eliwyn dismount before he attempted to take the saddle from his horse. He fumbled with it for quite a bit before finally managing to get it loose, pointedly ignoring the looks from the others in the camp as he set it aside and began copying the motions Tyler was going through with his own mount.

Sean stepped in close to the knight as he watched the former prince stumble through brushing out his horse to ready it for a night’s rest. “He’s… never learned how to do that, has he.”

Tyler shook his head, obviously working more thoroughly and slowly on his horse. “He had a squire for his horse alone, and the man did all the work on the horse.”

“And yet he’s a sight with how well he handles Ginger, there. Though I thought he was to ride into the field with his armies?”

“Likely not without an entourage.” Tyler grinned at that. “I will agree that he is an excellent rider, but he was never taught anything else. That was for someone else to handle.”

“I’m guessing that he also has no clue how to set up his tent, or build a fire, or cook..?”

“You’ve guessed rightly.” Tyler watched as Sean turned to look at Mark, and his amused expression turned into one of surprise: Mark’s currying of his horse, while not perfect, was done, and he was neatly putting aside the horse’s tack in exactly the same way Tyler had with his own. “Though he is a very fast learner.”

“That’s absolutely insane-!” Sean gaped. “Are you pulling my leg? Tell me true.”

“He’s never taken brush to horse before tonight, Sean.” Tyler turned to look at Sean. “He just is very observant, and he will always push himself to learn something if he deems it useful. You should have seen him a few years ago when he learned he would be taking over leadership of his father’s military. He spent months drilling with me and the other knights, speaking with the generals about recommended tactics for different enemies or environments, and studying historic campaigns, all of his own choosing. Not at the command or recommendation of his father, simply because he decided he needed to know what he was doing. He’s always been that way, even as a boy from what I’ve been told, about anything that he deemed his duty or responsibility to master. -And if he sets his mind upon doing something, you had best believe that it will get done.”

Sean was quiet for a moment before responding. “I’m suddenly very glad that he decided to move to our side of things.”

Tyler chuckled at that. “I didn’t mean that as a threat, you know.”

“I didn’t take it as one, but it is very good to know. -And it explains a lot about his attitude when he realized he’d been captured, now that I think back on it.” He glanced to his side again, this time because Eliwyn was walking up.

“Sean, have you seen Robin? I- I needed to talk to him.”

“He’s gone out scouting. I think he’s got a scheme brewing.”

Eliwyn raised an eyebrow at that. “And what kind of scheme might that be?”

“Don’t you give me that look; I don’t even know what he has in mind. He just told me he was scouting to make sure the camp was safe.” He smiled down at her. “Why don’t you take Mark to gather wood? We’re going to need enough for through the night, and many hands make light work.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” She waved a hand and walked away, speaking briefly to Mark before she picked up and lit a lantern and they headed into the woods nearby.

“He might get overly ambitious out there. I hope you don’t want whole trees,” Tyler joked.

“I more hope that they take a fair bit. Robin will likely be back soon.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I just have a feeling. I was honest with Eliwyn when I said that I don’t know what he’s up to, but I don’t think he was just scouting to make sure we were safe. He had a purposeful look on his face.”

“So what are you guessing he’s thinking of doing?”

“He’s got a fair amount of guilt over Korso and the situation he’s just placed Eliwyn in. He may seem like a patient sort, but he’s got a dark streak that I don’t ever want to be on the wrong side of. I reckon that he’s trying to track down the pack of golems that had him.”

“You reckon right.” Sean leaped away from the spot where Robin spoke from, eyes wide. Tyler looked startled at the elf just… appearing next to them.

“I _hate_ when you do that!” Sean snapped.

“What… even was that?”

Robin smiled a little. “Simple elf magic. We call it the step spell.”

“It magics you right back to the left side of someone if you know they haven’t left the spot you’re thinking of. He does it to me _constantly_ and it drives me nuts.” Sean gave the elf a dirty look, which was met with a shrug. “So if I guessed right, did you find anything?”

“I did. Fifteen wheels north of here there was another camp, smaller than the one we found earlier. Still abandoned, but more settled in if you catch my meaning.”

“...a retreat camp,” Tyler murmured after a minute. “With reinforcements staying back there just in case there was need of them.”

“Exactly. The group that stormed my workshop came back there and they all left together. There’s so many footprints and wagon tracks that you could practically find their path in the dark just from how chewed up the ground is. And there’s more.” He fished into his jacket pocket and brought out a leaf, tied up intricately into a tiny package using long blades of grass and carefully-twisted sticks. Robin brushed one of the twigs with a finger, and the package fell open to reveal a chunk of beeswax and a ring carved from sandy brown wood with a half-finished engraving winding around it- and the words “NORTH TO ORCS” scratched in hurried, messy handwriting into one of the leaves that faced inward towards those contents. “I know this was something of Korso’s. He’d keep it wrapped up like that while we were working and when we took breaks he would take it out to work on it. I know that scribbling as well as I know my own handwriting, so I know that this isn’t a trap.”

Sean stared at this for a long moment before looking up at Robin. “This means that he’s not dead!”

“As of a few days ago, when they broke up camp and left to the north. I don’t want any of this making its way to Eliwyn, mind you. I don’t want to watch her heart break twice. Just because he survived the trek to the goblins’ second camp and had the mind to drop a clue, doesn’t mean he’s still in this realm.”

“Your optimism is a beacon of hope for us all,” Sean grumbled in response.

“I agree with you, for what it’s worth,” Tyler said to Robin. “It would be better to give her the joy of her husband at the end of this than to build her up and then tear it out from under her once more.”

Robin smiled approvingly. “You have quite the way with words, good sir.”

Tyler shrugged at that, before looking up at the crunch of branches underfoot, just in time to see Mark and Eliwyn emerge from the trees with both their arms loaded up with firewood. “I see he didn’t get you hopelessly lost.”

“Are you kidding? I didn’t let him out of sight of you three.” Eliwyn dumped her collection of wood before dusting the sleeves of her dress free of bark and dirt. “I think we’re good through most of the night. I need to get my tent set up.”

“I’ll do that for you, Eliwyn,” Robin said, stepping away from Sean and Tyler as he did. “Since I have a suspicion that you now mean to cook.”

Her lips quirked into a brief smirk. “You know me too well, elf.”

“I should by now.” He got into her backpack long enough to extract her tent, before moving out of the way so that she could start getting out the things she’d need for cooking dinner. Meanwhile, Tyler moved to get the fire started, Mark standing nearby and watching intently as he did. Once the fire was lit, he started hovering over Eliwyn, who immediately recruited him to help her get the ingredients together for their dinner. A little while and one cut finger later, he was helping her serve everyone a meal of rice, beans, and salted venison that had been boiled until it was tender again.

Once everyone was finishing up their food, Sean spoke up. “So everyone’s on the same page for the morning, Robin found proof that the goblins we’ve been tracking are heading to the north, and we’ve got an inkling that they’re heading towards the orcs’ stronghold further in the mountains.” He looked at every face around the campfire. “That’s what we’re walking into right now, and as best we can tell it’s our best chance at closure. If any of you doesn’t want to go any further after tonight, if you want to take one of the horses and head back down to the village… we won’t judge you. Orcs are nothing to treat lightly.” He tried to not look directly at Eliwyn, but her eyes caught his and she shook her head silently. When no one else voiced a desire to leave, he spoke again. “Sounds like we’re all in on this. Right. If anyone changes their mind by morning, let me know; otherwise I’m planning on us all trying to set up a hidey-hole by the orcs for a smaller group to sneak in. In the meantime, we all ought to get some sleep.”

“We should set up watches, since we know we’re on a goblin’s path,” Robin interjected. “I’ll take the first watch.”

“I’ll stay up as well,” Tyler replied.

“I’ll do second,” came from Sean. He glanced between Mark, Signe, and Eliwyn.

Signe nodded slightly before speaking. “I will as well.”

“That leaves you two for third shift.” He looked back at Mark and Eliwyn.

“I’m assuming that’s to mean that I’ll need to cook breakfast as well, then?” Eliwyn smirked a little as Sean started to stammer at her. “Don’t go getting yourself into a fuss, now! Everyone knows I enjoy the task, so I only tease.” She got to her feet. “I’ll be excusing myself to bed now. Good night everyone.” She stepped away from the fire and retreated into her tent.

Signe rose as well. “I’ll say my good nights as well. I’m not used to so much riding.” She disappeared into the tent she was sharing with Sean, leaving just the men around the fire at that point. Sean produced a wineskin and some short wooden cups, and they all took a cupful to nurse.

After a time, Tyler stepped away to gather more wood for the fire, returning with his arms fully loaded. He started building up the fire so it would burn through the night, humming to himself as he did. Finally, the work done, he sat back down next to Mark again, looking upward. “It’ll be cold tonight,” he said. “Clouds are starting to thin out.”

“Good thing you grabbed all that firewood, then. I know I won’t want to wake up to a cold watch.” Sean rotated his cup with his palms, spinning it one way up to his fingertips and then back again to the heel of the opposite hand.

“I dread you being cold less than I do Eliwyn not having a cooking fire ready,” Tyler returned, and the group all laughed. His expression turned serious again after the joke, though, and he asked, “What is our plan, exactly, for tomorrow?”

Robin spoke up. “We’re a small group, and goblins aren’t known for their military mindset. They may have a few days’ head start on us, but we may be able to overtake them if we leave early and ride as fast as we’re able without any stops.”

“I think we can make that work. We can manage with a cold meal on horseback instead of stopping to cook,” Sean replied.

“Best not say that around Eliwyn.” Robin grinned.

“Speaking of…” Sean frowned slightly before he continued. “Why didn’t you say anything about goblins raiding your workshop, let alone them taking Korso? I know you two tend to be secretive of what you work on to keep the elders from finding out, but the fact that Eliwyn had to come from the halflings’ village to bring word when you were already in town…”

Robin looked away, frowning as well. “I… I don’t know. I don’t have a good answer. I almost think that I expected him to be back by lunch the next day or so, all jolly as he always has been and joking about what sort of stupid trap the goblins were using to keep him held hostage before he went back to his bench and resumed his work.” He rubbed a hand across his face before he continued. “And then he still hadn’t arrived back, and I didn’t want to bring it to you, Sean, for fear of alerting the elders to what we were doing. So I just… sat on it. I know that was the wrong call to make, and I’m sorry. But that’s why I’m here. I mean to make this right now.”

Sean sat quietly after the elf’s voice trailed off, looking thoughtful, before he finally nodded. “Well enough,” he said. “That’s what counts, I suppose, is the making things right.” He stood up and walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t keep carrying the weight of your anger at yourself around, Robin. It won’t make this ride any easier or faster.”

“A prince and a philosopher, all in one?” Robin was trying to crack wise, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it. “How lucky Signe is.”

“Ha-ha.” Sean grinned, looking tired. “Mark, we ought to be getting to bed. We’ll need all the sleep we can catch tonight.”

Mark nodded and got to his feet. “Good night Tyler, good night Robin. I wish you a quiet watch.”

Robin was studying the ground, still looking out of sorts, so Tyler alone responded. “Thank you, Mark. May yours be as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo it's still going. Still a ways to go, so if you're enjoying it let me know with a kudo or a comment!


	20. Dominoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien has moved into position to have everything he wants. Now to just take care of the last loose ends...

Damien stood in the midst of a politically charged and very noisy whirlwind from the moment he entered the morning’s session of his uncle’s court. Judges, advisors, and members of the aristocracy were all fighting to be heard over each other, though things quieted briefly as he approached the throne.

_All this fuss over little old me,_ he thought, trying to not grin in favor of maintaining his appearance of the grieving, confused son and cousin. He had made his appearance before his uncle while fully dressed for the part: dull black cotton and wool replaced his favored maroon, dark gray and black satins, no weapons on his belt, hair untamed and face unshaved. He had even kept himself up later at nights and awoken earlier in the mornings so that he would look overtired or overwrought from his loss. He finally cleared his voice and spoke once the rest of the court silenced themselves enough for his uncle to be able to hear him. “Your majesty, I was summoned?”

“That you were, nephew,” the king replied, glaring at the other occupants of the court as they finally completely fell quiet in order to hear the conversation. “Thank you for your prompt appearance before the throne. I think it is fair to say that you have noticed what fickle and dangerous times we live in.”

“I… suppose that I have, but I cannot begin to guess what you mean to say after a statement like that.”

His uncle rose from his throne to stand on the dais before the court, and Damien’s face showed genuine surprise as it occurred to him that the king was wearing his most ornate and formal robes, the ones that he had last seen at his cousin’s official crowning thirteen years previously. He started to open his mouth to answer him, but then a man nearby, dressed in the robes of one of the crown’s scholars, raised his voice. “I object to this, your majesty, as one of your advisors of the laws. All laws of the land agree that the circlet can only be transferred if it is physically present, or the crowning will never be recognized by the people! It has been this way for centuries at this point.” Those around him, similarly dressed, all nodded and murmured their agreement at this. “The laws are old but clear on this account, your majesty. We must await the arrival of the prince’s corpse and the circlet before this is to be done, or else Prince Damien’s rule will never be recognized by our own history and laws, and thus be rife with controversy.”

“Circlets can be forged anew,” the king roared as the rest of the crowd began to agree with the outspoken scholar, “if it keeps the kingdom going as it should. I am the king and I control the laws! I will broker no arguments against this decision!”

“And how are we to know him as the crown prince in the meantime?” someone called out from the back. “Other than he’ll be wearing all black until next summer?”

Another replied before the king could. “You mean how will we know the difference?”

Raucous laughter rocked the court, and the king bristled. “Guards, arrest both of them. We’ll see how smart they feel about their comments after a week in the stocks.”

What followed was no small amount of commotion as the man who had chimed in was quickly taken into custody, but the other who had started the heckling attempted to hide in the crowd and then outrun the guards when he was discovered. By the time he was finally dragged away in chains and the doors of the throne room banged shut once more, the king’s face was beet red with rage at how far out of his control the court had ranged. Finally he raised his voice in a shout to be heard, which ended up quieting the court as his words rung out. “Silence, all of you! This is the king’s word. My son- my heir by nature of his birth to the late queen- is dead, his body lost to us at this time. Would that I had the circlet that marked him as my chosen heir, I would present it to you. Instead, it lays who knows where within the wilds beyond our walls. Perhaps it makes a pretty bangle on the wrist of some orc’s bitch!”

The king’s cursing completely silenced the room at last, and for a moment it was like the whole world was holding its breath to Damien. His uncle rose from the throne and strode towards him, and he took a knee out of surprise before the man. The king stopped before him and worked two rings from the fingers of his left hand: the first, a large gold ring with a ruby in it; and the second, a thinner silver ring with a diamond.

“Mark me as I do this, those who rule on my behalf in the fields and the streets, in the homes and the shops,” he intoned, holding the first ring high. “The signet ring of my fathers, the mark of direct lineage of the crown of Lipier. Witness!” He took Damien’s left hand and put the ring onto his first finger, as he had worn it. Still holding up Damien’s hand, his other shot upward to display the silver ring with the diamond. “The ring of command, marking the one who will lead the armies of Lipier on my behalf. It now passes from me to my nephew.” He lowered their hands to place that ring upon Damien’s third finger now, before letting go of the prince’s hand to step back and raise an arm towards the younger man, who was now stumbling to his feet as quickly as he could possibly manage after realizing that was what was expected of him. “Witness now your crown prince, Prince Damien of Iplier!”

The court quietly and politely clapped in response to the pronouncement, clearly without much excitement. Damien looked over them all, trying to look as bewildered as possible. He had not anticipated this much being announced in his favor this early, but he savored the moment of victory nonetheless. “Thank you, your majesty,” he replied, loud enough to be heard by the whole court once the patter of applause had ceased. “I do not wish to be too… celebratory of this moment, but I appreciate your decision.”

“There will be time to celebrate this when the grieving is resolved,” the king replied, placing a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “For now, I want to see my son avenged.”

“As do I.”

“Then I give you my leave to take my armies to address the problem of the Wylde Folk. You will ride out immediately. If there are spies among us, I will not give them the chance to get ahead of us.”

“Yes, your majesty,” he answered with a bow. “I will go prepare at once.”

“Good luck go with you,” the king called after him, as Damien immediately headed down the steps to the throne to hurry out of the room. “I look forward to raising a glass to your success when you return.”

He did not answer, already out the door and heading to his rooms. As soon as he trusted himself to be out of sight of anyone who would dare judge him, he started to run down the hallways, calling for his butler once in earshot of the man’s door. Thompson immediately stuck his head out and followed him into his rooms. “Armor, now,” he said, stopping by the armoire that held all his weapons and battle gear. “And tell James to saddle Goliath up, quickly. The king has ordered me to ride out with the army at once.”

“Yes, your highness.” The man disappeared to alert the stablehand, before returning with a softly spoken apology to change Damien out of his mourning garb and into the leathers he wore under his armor. Damien held perfectly still, running through everything in his head. He had to go and get Sir William as soon as he was fully prepared, the troops had to be rallied and mounted for at least a week’s worth of riding and combat, and then there was preparations to be ordered for his men staying at the castle. At best, he would be riding out with the troops just after lunch and that would mean at least a few hours to ride towards the location and set up a primary camp. _It isn’t ideal,_ he thought to himself, _but it puts things in motion._ He grunted as Thompson buckled his breastplate in place by tightening the side belts as far as they could go, and then he took himself in via the nearby full length mirror as he was handed his helmet and Thompson buckled on his cloak before smoothing out any wrinkles or errant folds. “Apologies, sir, that I did not have the prince’s armor for you to wear.”

“This will do for this campaign, Thompson.” He kept his voice low, the tone tight but even: the notes of managed grief were difficult ones to hit, especially when one didn’t mean them in the slightest. “When I return home, once things are more stable, I will commission a new suit to show my new ranking in the royalty. My cousin will be buried in his suit when his body is returned home, to mark that he passed at the hands of an enemy.”

“Of course, sir.” Thompson nodded slightly to indicate his understanding, and went to hold the door open. “With your leave, sir, I will notify the commander that you are on your way down?”

“Yes, thank you Thompson.” He watched as the man walked away quickly after he was in the hallway, disappearing into a servants’ passageway like a rabbit into its den about halfway down the corridor. _I will have to hang onto him after all this happens,_ Damien thought as he started down the hallway himself, listening to his clanking steps echo off of the stone walls he passed. _He is proving very invaluable in the last few weeks. Perhaps a raise and some increased responsibilities or privileges will ensure his loyalties for the years to come._ He smirked to himself. _Well… loyalties and strategic ignorance._

He continued on his way down to the courtyard, pleased to see that Sir William already had his troops out and geared up in anticipation. “Sir William,” he called, genuinely pleased at what he was seeing.

The commander bowed deeply from where he stood next to his horse. “Your highness,” he said as he straightened back up, “we stand ready for your orders.”

Damien nodded while watching as his favored mount Goliath, a monstrous black beast of a Percheron whose all-black leather bridle and saddle and dark metal armor only served to make him look more intimidating, was led out of the stables by the head of stables and a boy who was carrying Damien’s standard of a blood red lion on a black field with a silver stripe running vertically through the center. The boy from the stable helped him to mount up and then handed him his standard before he promptly disappeared back from where he came from. Damien drew his sword and pointed towards to the gates. “Men!” he shouted, watching as every face in the courtyard immediately turned towards him. “We ride for the lost village, and we reclaim it on this day. In honor of my cousin, Prince Mark!”

He was immediately answered with calls of “For Prince Mark!” in return from several of the soldiers and knights, and he spurred Goliath forward for the gate and heard hundreds of hooves fall in behind him without so much as a word or a gesture from him. He fought the urge to grin as he rose his standard into the air, letting it stream out behind him as Goliath thundered across the plains before them in the direction his cousin had marked as the site of the Wylde Folk. He glanced over his shoulder at the castle as they rode away, watching as a single light appear in a window on the third floor.

_Just as we discussed,_ he thought as he turned the standard so it instead faced in the direction he was riding in, no longer fluttering backwards but instead presented towards anyone who might approach could see it.

Back at the palace, an odd chuckle escaped the man who had placed the light in the window as he twisted his dyed mustache at its ends. There was the faintest of jingles as he turned from the candle and started on his way to one of the many secret passages in the castle. “Holes like a loaf of bread,” he muttered aloud as he slid behind a suit of armor and the tapestry behind it to enter one such walkway. “A good solid crust outside, oh yes; but big holes and little holes where the butter can leak through.” He tittered again, the sound rolling back at him through the empty path ahead of him as he bent to check a mark on a stone at waist height, before turning to his left down the stairs there. A moment later he emerged out of the back of the cheese pantry in the depths of the cellar, waiting by the door for all the nearby kitchen maids to disappear into another section of the massive kitchens for their late breakfast. As soon as they had all left and there was an opening, he took the opportunity and ducked to the entrance into the main hallway, humming cheerily to himself. Any staff of the castle who saw him moved aside, unquestioningly, as he made his way to the throne room.

In that way, being the court jester did come with its benefits.

He continued along the hallway, turning this way and that through the maze under the palace proper. He made his path into his own private room to retrieve his bag. He tied it around his belt, singing nonsense to himself as he made sure it was tied tight. “Mustn’t lose our pockets today, mustn’t let it fall away, must keep the cord tied nice and tight, or else we won’t have coin tonight,” he sang as he went back into the hallway, grabbing an unsuspecting laundry girl and waltzing her around as he passed her. She made a distressed noise at being spun around and hurried away once he released her. He paid her discomfort or disappearance no mind as he danced off towards the throne room, merrily skipping along. When he reached the throne room door, the guards merely gave him a glance as he opened the door and let himself in.

The king seemed lost in thought, head resting in one hand with the elbow placed on the arm of his throne, and paid him no mind initially as he headed down the center carpet that led to the dias before him. It was not until he looked up at a faint jingling from the man before him that the king finally acknowledged him. “Oh, Wilfred,” the king sighed. “I fear I have no laughter left in me to show appreciation for your jokes today.”

“I am also willing to end a lear,” the jester said in kind, bowing so deeply that his cap with its bells nearly tipped off his head.

The king smiled faintly at that. “You mean lend an ear, jester.”

“So I did, so I did! Everything is all criss-croissant in my head these days. Too many things to keep track of!”

“Indeed that is the case,” the other man sighed, heavily. “I wonder nowadays more and more how much longer I am meant to rule this kingdom. Everything that I made seems to be gone now.”

“Now, now, mustn’t talk like that old boy.” Wilfred danced closer, producing three daggers from the folds of his costume to juggle. “It’s all about keeping it all up in the air, after all. Sometimes things might get out of control, of course… but as long as you catch up to the mistakes you’ve made, why, then you still come out all right in the end.”

The king watched him, weariness lining every crease in his face and making him look twenty years older. After a few tricks, he waved a hand. “Enough, jester, enough. I find no joy in your performance today. You are dismissed.”

Wilfred caught his knives and looked thoughtful for a moment, tapping his chin with the tip of one of the daggers. “Mmm. I think not, my liege. After all, you were not the one to summon me to appear.”

The other man rose to his feet. “If you wish to keep your head, jester, you will heed my command. I am in no mood for your nonsense any longer, so be gone from my sight!”

Wilfred began to juggle the knives again, though far more quickly than he had been, so the blades and his hands were a blur of motion too fast to track. “Mind your own head, sire,” he replied, jovial notes all gone from his voice and instead he intoned in the very deepest, darkest baritone he could summon from the depths of his chest. “You wondered right, by the by. All you made is gone. All that you are is gone now.”

“Jester-” The king looked genuinely afraid at this dark mood from the normally silly man he had known for so long. He took a step back and away from his throne. “Wilfred, stop. Whatever’s gotten into you? This isn’t you at all!”

“You’ve not paid any attention then.” A hand flicked, and Wilfred watched as the king’s gaze dropped to the hilt protruding from his shoulder. Wilfred’s face broke into the most wicked smile as he realized: _all that fancy ceremonial frockery and not a bit of armor under it!_ “Don’t you know how comedy works, my liege? It’s tragedy-” The next dagger flew out, plunging into the king’s stomach this time. “-and timing.” The third and final dagger was flung, finding its mark in the left side of the king’s chest.

His answer was a choking cough from the king, as he reached for the dagger in his stomach, finding it buried deep in his flesh. He looked as though he was debating pulling it free but instead, with unexpected strength, he suddenly raised his voice in a shout. “Guards! Guards! I’ve been attacked!”

“Damnation.” Wilfred darted in, swiftly kicking out to knock the king off his feet. He then retrieved two of the daggers, leaving the one in the heart, before kicking the knife wound in the stomach to shut the man up. “Goodbye, old chum. Sorry about all this, but I’ll be handing in my notice as well.” He stepped behind the throne and touched a hidden button on the side, opening up the trap door that lead to the dungeon corridors, before disappearing into a side entrance that hadn’t been used since the Queen had passed. He lingered by the door, waiting to overhear the results of his handiwork.

There was the bang of the door opening as the two guards stationed there finally entered. “Oh no,” one of them immediately groaned. “Not the king too. Who could’ve-”

“Stop gabbing, you idiot! Run and get the head of the guards, and the doctor while you’re at it! And look sharp for anyone suspicious!”

“Oh- yes sir!” Heavy footfalls marked the other guard departing the throne room.

“Damn it all…” Wilfred peeped around the door carefully, watching the other guard look around to see if the assailant were hiding nearby. He nearly fell into the trapdoor, cursing in surprise as he caught himself after his foot went into the hole. Wilfred almost chuckled aloud at the sight of it. “So there’s how you got out. Mayhaps in, as well.”

“Yes, little rabbit, head right for my snare,” Wilfred whispered, grip on the door tightening as he took it in. Neither guard was old enough to even think of the Queen’s entrance corridor- most of the older guard would likely be taking over for the military while they were out staging their attack on the Wylde Folk. Besides, he could claim he had run in terror from the assailants.

No one was going to suspect the weird little man who the king had kept as court jester for years capable of murder. Not odd old Wilfred. He was too harmless, too addled. Oh sure, he’d once had a promising career in the military but there was that fall from that horse. He was never quite the same after the head injury. Rumor had it that the king felt sorry for the poor man and had made him court jester to keep him employed, to give him a way to stay out of trouble. That was how Wilfred got away with so much that would have gotten another man turned out, after all.

And that was all part of the joke, wasn’t it? That last person you would ever suspect as being capable of doing something like that is, and was, always how someone gets away with murder.

The sound of feet came from the doorway, all hurrying and scurrying, and he overheard the voice of the royal physician, full of sorrow. “There’s nothing I could do at this point. He’s bled out. Look at how pale he’s gone.”

“I found a way they could have entered and escaped.” This came from the guard who had stayed in the room. “Look here, sir.”

“Good.” The head of the guard knelt by the king’s side. “Stabbed three times. And this… this is one of the ceremonial daggers the king gives out to the nobility.” He pulled the dagger loose with some effort, a sickening sucking noise joining it that caused the guard who was sent for reinforcements to retch briefly. “It’ll do that when it pierces through the heart, boy. Swallow that bile and match this crest to one of the banners in here. We’ll know whose it is soon enough.”

“Aye, sir,” the young guard said weakly.

“You really think it was one of the lords, sir?”

“These daggers never leave them for the most part. Old rule, they have to wear them at all times to show loyalty to the crown. We’re even allowed to search a lord to make sure he’s wearing his if the king decrees it.” The head guard got to his feet, sighing. “We’ll issue a decree after we’ve searched down that trap door. If memory serves, that goes down towards the dungeons. Perhaps a servant lifted it off one of the lords…”

“Sir?” The young guard called out from the back of the room. “I found it.”

“...the Barnes.” The head guard looked startled. “But… that can’t be. He’s in custody right now. Everyone, to the dungeons, now!”

The guards all disappeared from the room in the blink of an eye, leaving the royal physician alone with the body. He sighed and went to one of the cords that would ring a bell in the servants’ quarters, pulling on it rapidly to summon someone to the throne room as quickly as possible. Wilfred took that opportunity to make his own exit, retreating through the Queen’s corridor into the unused sitting room on its other side and through a servant’s door hidden there to retreat back into his own quarters. After a while, the housekeeper came to beg his help in searching the castle for the escaped lords and lady who were suspected to have killed the king. He made worried remarks and followed her, wandering through the various rooms and hallways of the castle to try and find the nobles who’d managed to get out of the dungeon. After hours of searching, the head guard called them all to the throne room. He stood below the dais out of respect, even though this made him harder to see and hear. However, the assembled were dead quiet, so everything he said was heard perfectly.

“In case it hasn’t been made clear yet… the King is dead. And he sent Prince Damien away today to deal with the Wylde Folk. We have four people we believe are responsible, but we have to locate them first. In the meantime, though, we in the guards will send word to Prince Damien and then maintain order until his return, when he will be crowned.” He looked out at the crowd. “The King is dead. Long live the King.”

After a moment, they took up the call as well. “The King is dead. Long live the King!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Sorry I dropped off the earth on this fic... had some pretty heavy family stuff happen at the end of September and it took a while for the writing urge to come back to me. I hope you'll enjoy this in spite of the wait. I'm hoping to get a chapter out a week at this point, since this marks the halfway point. Thanks for continuing to read this, and thanks in advance for any comments or kudos.


	21. Shattered Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Higher into the mountains, danger grows closer. Old beings grow stronger. And alliances may be fraying.

It was cold and overcast as everyone else began to emerge from their tents in order to eat before they broke down their camp. Eliwyn had fussed about being low on supplies for the last hour before the first person, Tyler, opened his tent flap. Apparently satisfied with there being a second person to stand guard with Mark, she disappeared into the woods. By the time that Robin, Sean and Signe had woken up as well, she’d returned with eggs, mushrooms, and wild carrots. “Are there many chickens in these woods?” Tyler joked as she carefully emptied her apron’s contents into a bowl she’d removed from her knapsack.

“No chickens, but plenty of pheasants and turkeys. I managed to find enough nests that each of us can have an egg without completely robbing the nest.” She got out her frying pan and set it on the fire. “Someone go rouse Kelpy? She’d sleep through an army marching through when it’s this cold out.”

Signe chuckled. “I’ll do it.” She walked over to the tent the nymph was still in, opening the flap and disappearing inside to wake its occupant. A few minutes later, Kelpy emerged with a huge yawn, walking over wordlessly to sit next to the fire. Signe followed her out and sat down as well.

“So, the plan for today is..?” Robin looked between Mark and Sean.

“First things first,” Sean said, “we eat and refill our water skins. Then we break down camp and try to hide that we were here as much as we can. Then we follow the goblins’ trail and hopefully find the orcs’ frontal attack camp before dark.”

“And without being caught,” Tyler added.

“Well, yes, I was hoping that much was implied.” Sean was grinning as he said this, though.

“Pray tell, what are the small group of us going to do against an army of orcs and goblins, Sean?” Eliwyn looked up from the frying pan, free hand balling into a fist to rest on her hip. “Only two of us have full magic at their command, and then there’s you and Tyler able to hold your own in a fight. Are Mark and I to hold the horses and stay behind?” She glanced at Mark. “No offense. I’m sure you’re excellent with a rapier or some other fancy one-on-one weapon.”

“None taken,” he replied.

“For now, we plan on just scouting it. Find out what their plans are and what we need to do. Recover anything of value.” He said this last part while pointedly looking away from Eliwyn.

“So get in, get out, get home,” Mark added.

“Exactly.” Sean looked around at the group as everyone nodded in return, minus Eliwyn who had started to fuss over cooking breakfast. “All right, that’s all I had to say on the matter. Go ahead and get washed up, skins filled, the like. I’ll go ‘round and feed everyone’s horses, so don’t worry about that.”

The group dispersed, Robin towards the woods to bring back a few more branches for the fire so Eliwyn wouldn’t have to leave the task at hand, Sean towards where they had tied up to the horses the night before, and everyone else towards the river. Mark and Tyler sat next to each other as they freshened up in the icy cold water of the stream that ran nearby, joking with one another as they washed their faces and hands and then dried themselves off as best they could with their respective undershirts. Sean led the horses over to get a drink as they were filling up their skins. “How’d you sleep, Sean?” Tyler asked as the other man squatted, resting his backside on his heels while looking into the trees across from where they’d camped.

“Uneasily,” he answered, not turning his gaze away from the trees. Mark once again found himself wishing that he was more observant and could see what was troubling his comrade. “It turned far too cold for this time of year. I don’t put much stock in the legends of the “old ones” that the orcs supposedly call their gods, but this is one of their signs.”

“What old ones?”

“Damn, you don’t know?” Sean finally looked away from the trees, to stare at Mark. “Though I suppose with the king being all anti-anything-not-human, you’d be lacking in any knowledge of religion that isn’t your kingdom’s.”

“Right in one.”

“Okay then. Mind you, this is what I was told by my gran when I was small, so I make no claims about this being the truest version or whatever.” Sean dropped to sit on the ground, turning as he did to face Tyler and Mark. “When the world was made in time long ago, there were eight elementals who were born with its creation.” He held up his fists, raising a finger with each one he listed. “Day, Night, Life, Death, Stone, Wind, Water, Flame. They shaped every race that walks on this world, and they made sure to each gift a small part of themselves to every race so that no one would gain more power than the other. But as time passed, Death grew angry that he was resented for his gift to the races of the world, as all beings- sentient or otherwise- try to outrun their end for as long as they possibly can. So he decided to create new things, without telling the other elementals. Things like war, and disease, and famine. Each race treated this in different ways. Humans and dwarves tried to perfect things, like their military, their medical practices, and their way of farming. Elves, centaurs, nymphs and dryads saw them as part of the natural order and never sought them out, believing that it would only encourage more of it to come to them if they did. Halflings fell somewhere in the middle, holding to the old ways of doing things but trying to be more proactive about things like illness and food supplies. But the orcs… they saw these as a challenge. To them, those things were issued because the orcs had to prove themselves worthy. Death saw this, and reveled in it. After the orcs continued this for generations, he appeared to them to see how they would react to it. They immediately deemed him a god, calling him Ka’l-far-noc, or the End-Bringer, and their best warrior was sacrificed in front of him to show their devotion.

“Death tasted blood that had known the rage of battle that day, and he decided that he had been very thirsty for it for a very long time. The orcs were delighted that the sacrifice was so well received, and for the next three days and three nights they sacrificed those who had fought and grown too old to keep at it, those who had grown cowardly after years of fighting, and supposedly one orc matron who had birthed no less than thirteen warriors of renown. All accepted their fate as an offering to Ka’l-far-noc, and Death grew more and more powerful as he feasted on each of them. He departed at sunrise on the fourth day to the words of the orcs’ chieftain promising more bloodshed in his name. Within a week’s time, they attacked a human settlement and burned it to the ground, leaving no survivors. That was when the other elementals finally took notice. Death was called to appear in front of them, to explain himself. He hid his newly gain might from them, told them that he had no idea why the orcs would strike down the village of another race with no real reason. After much discussion, they found they had no reason to not believe what he said, so he was released back to his duties.

“It was after the village was destroyed that the races finally convened together to discuss what was going on. Their beliefs on how they should deal with it fell much along the same lines they had when Death’s new outcomes had been introduced: the humans and dwarves wished to battle the orcs into submission, and the halflings wanted it dealt with but didn’t have a solution as to how to do that, and the elves wanted to be left out of it entirely. During this meeting of the races, in spite of the differences of opinions, a solution was reached due to the suggestions of the centaurs, dryads and nymphs. The centaurs would go to war with the orcs, as they were the best match for them given their numbers and natural strength. The dryads and nymphs would teach the others how to assist, and they would all support the centaurs. No one knew what they meant at first but, because those two races were so connected with the natural world, they had secretly been gifted the knowledge of magic by Stone, Wind, Water and Flame. This is how magic entered the worlds of humans, dwarves, elves, and halflings.

“After planning for a few months and learning the spells they would need to know for the attack, the combined forces gathered on the mountain where the orcs’ chieftain and his specially chosen warriors made their camp. The centaurs charged in and engaged, holding the orcs to a standstill without killing any of them. This infuriated the chieftain, who called upon Ka’l-far-noc to aid them with his might. This was the time for the spells. United as one, the other races cast their magic upon Death as he appeared over the mountain, redirecting his ill-gotten powers to the centaurs instead. Still, even fueled by Death’s own essence, they did not kill any orcs. All were disarmed and sent into the west, further and higher into the mountains. Their weapons and armor were destroyed, and the other seven elementals were called upon to deal with Death. He was withdrawn from the world, cast into a cavern underground that would never be accessible by mortals. The centaurs, burdened with his ‘blessing’ from the sacrifices of the orcs, went into isolation to protect the other races. The other races returned to their lands and resumed their daily lives.”

Tyler spoke up after Sean had been quiet for a long moment. “So why do you say the cold foretells something..?”

“According to my gran, it’s said that as Death was cast down into his prison he proclaimed ‘when royal blood runs by blessed race’s hands, all will watch as Death once more stands’.”

“Wouldn’t be a good prophecy if it didn’t rhyme.” This came from Robin, standing nearby. “Breakfast is ready and getting cold, by the by. Sean, you need to learn to tell that story faster.”

He rolled his eyes as he stood up. “It’s a lot to tell!” He looked over at Tyler and Mark as the other two men also got to their feet. “Supposedly Death’s return is marked by the world growing colder than normal. That’s why.”

Tyler looked thoughtful, as Mark looked worried. “Could the orcs have reached my father..?”

“I doubt it. They would have had to get through the walls and those guards who would have been left to protect it, even if they had made it past the outposts.” Tyler clapped a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I’m sure your father is fine. Now let’s go get ourselves dressed and eat.”

A few minutes later, in the rest of their clothes and armor, everyone was seated around the fire. Most had their cloaks pulled tightly around them to conserve warmth as they ate the breakfast Eliwyn had prepared. She finished eating first and started to clean up from preparing the meal. Kelpy began helping as soon as she finished her own food, and the others went to break down tents as they too had cleaned their plates. Robin and Tyler worked on getting the horses ready for riding while Sean took care of dosing the fire. Within a half hour, they were all packed, saddled, and departing the site. Mark sat behind Eliwyn once more, but he took control of guiding Ginger along behind Sean as the halfling sorted through her knapsack and grumbled about running low on supplies.

“We’ll be fine, Eliwyn,” Robin said over his shoulder after being within earshot of her for more than a few minutes. “It’s not as if we’re building a home up here, after all.”

“I’d rather have more than less,” she replied, sounding tense. “I can only forage so much, after all.”

“I think we’ll be fine.”

She sighed noisily. “Then I hope you’re right.”

“Optimism, Winnie?” Robin grinned as she glared at him for the nickname. “It’s a new look on you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe _some people_ are rubbing off on me.” She nodded quickly towards Sean ahead of them, and then Mark felt as though he witnessed the impossible: she and Robin shared a laugh at that.

“What’s so funny back there?” Sean actually turned around at the sound, looking faintly suspicious.

“Nothing, fearless leader,” she answered immediately.

He shook his head and mumbled something as he turned back around, turning his horse towards the track the path seemed to make through the thinning trees. The group fell quiet after this once more, with little to no conversation passing between them until Sean halted them an hour later. Mark pushed Ginger forward. “What’s wrong?”

“That.” Sean pointed to a mark carved into a tree near the trail. “We’ve reached centaur territory.”

“We shouldn’t stay here,” Signe added, looking scared. “They’ve avoided everyone for this long for a good reason, after all.”

“They’re not that bad, Kormo’s told me-” Eliwyn protested, though anything she meant to say further was drowned out by a boom of thunder rolling overhead. This was followed quickly by rain beginning to pour down in huge droplets of icy cold water. Everyone hurried for cover under a group of pines, blocking some of the rain from soaking them any worse than they had already become.

“Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,” Mark said after they had the horses tied to some sturdier branches, stamping his feet to try and warm up somehow.

Robin looked over at him from where he was trying to assist Signe in casting a spell to create heat without lighting a fire. “What, the rain?”

“No, the centaurs.”

“Are you insane?” Sean asked.

Mark scowled. “Just because they’re isolated doesn’t mean that they’re hostile! You’re all assuming that you know exactly how they’ll react to outsiders from a story that’s older than all of us! _I_ should know!”

Sean’s expression was a mixture of surprise and shame at Mark’s last three words, while Robin spoke up. “That may be true, but we can’t be sure that they won’t just defend themselves.”

“Then we send someone as a representative to make sure we’re crossing their lands in peace.”

Signe shook her head now. “Not alone. We would never know what happened if only one went to speak to them.”

“And send a third of our group to them while the rest do what? Sit here and twiddle their thumbs?”

“Then what do you suggest, Mark?” In spite of his best efforts, Sean’s frustration showed in his tone.

“We go as one, all of us. We speak to whoever we need to with respect. We explain the situation. I’m sure that they’ll understand everything that we need to do.”

The group was quietly staring at him for a moment, before Eliwyn spoke up. “I like your optimism, your highness. I’m with you.”

“Well… that’s one vote of confidence.” Mark looked over everyone, making sure to stand up as straight as he could to reach his full height or to at least look composed and self-assured as  
much as he could. “Who else?”

“I am.” This came from Tyler, who then turned a look on Sean, Signe and Robin.

Sean groaned. “Fine. Fine! We’ll try this, but I’m pretty sure it’s not going to work out at all.” He looked around the group. “So we’ll ride in-”

“Don’t ride.” He looks down at Eliwyn, who’s shaking her head. “It’s offensive. Kormo told me as much.”

“... _fine_. Inconvenient, but fine. We leave the horses here and continue following the goblins’ path. Maybe we’ll have some luck on our side and the centaurs caught them.”

“Fingers crossed, anyways,” Tyler replied.

Sean nodded. “Everyone stay close to each other. The weather’s still not on our side, and I don’t want someone wandering off the trail and getting lost.” He ducked under the branches and the rest of the group followed shortly after, Mark walking up front with him for a change. “I still don’t like it.”

“We don’t always have to like things in order for them to be the right thing to do,” Mark replied softly. “And it’s what’s hardest in life that makes us better.”

“You keep talking like that, I’m going to tell Arin to take you home and make you king of the dwarves as well.”

“Hah! Please, I barely think I’m capable of one kingdom nowadays, let alone two.”

“I think you could make it work. Dwarves typically can manage themselves quite nicely-” Sean stopped at Signe screaming behind them and turned. Looming behind the group stood four orcs, all in armor and carrying weapons. “Signe, Eliwyn, run! We’ll handle this!!”

Before he could say more, one of the orcs swung his club into him and slammed him into the tree next to him, and Sean slid to the ground like melting snow falling from a roofline. Mark ran to try and pick him up, to lug him away for a retreat, when he heard Tyler shout at him. He turned to look at the knight and found himself facing the same club, speeding towards the side of his head. For a moment, the world exploded into stars, and then disappeared into blackness, as he heard the other four members of their party scream in panic.

And the last clear thought he could form was, _We’ve failed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little over a week but here it is! I hope everyone enjoyed the world building with the elementals. I had that as an idea mid-editing and just had to add it in. Kept rereading it so much that I could start hearing parts of it in Jack's voice... anyways! I will get another chapter up as soon as I can! Thank you all for continuing on this crazy journey with me, I love you for it. Take care and see you in the next chapter!


	22. Stars Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When everything has gone wrong, how do you even start to set things right again?

Sean was hopeful as he slowly made his way back towards consciousness that it wasn’t terribly bright out when he finally opened his eyes, because from the way that his head was already hurting anything brighter than a candle was going to make it that much worse. He coaxed one open a crack after a long moment, groaning faintly as he tried to assess the situation.

Selfishly, he was glad that it wasn’t bright. But what he was seeing wasn’t actually making him feel any bit better. Mark was tied up across from him, on the other side of a rather anemic fire, and still clearly out. He shifted experimentally and found himself bound as well: _Not just bound, but tightening knots,_ he thought as one pull caused a rope to tighten considerably around his bicep. _Damned clever of them to do that._ He got his other eye opened, noting that the area around it was swollen from the way the muscles and skin felt stretched at him doing so, and took as much of a long look as he dared around to try and spot the rest of their group.

His stomach dropped and turned icy cold at realizing that there was no sign of the other five in the party nearby. Nearby, someone chuckled lowly, and Sean turned his head with a horrified expression at finding he’d been watched this whole time. He found himself looking at a male orc who easily stood nine feet tall, covered in scars, and wearing only a tunic that appeared to be made of multiple different leathers. He also had multiple different colors of hair running through the thick braids that hung over his shoulders and from his beard, little scraps of what appeared to be leather hanging from the ends of the different colored sections. “Who… who are you?” he managed after staring at the orc for a long moment.

He grunted another laugh, grinning down at the slight human. “Many names, man-child. I have so many names. You may call me Chieftain Shenk.”

“Chieftain Shenk… with all due respect, where are our friends?”

“Dead.” He smirked as Sean pulled backwards from him as best he could, that icy spot in his stomach growing in intensity at the thought. “We only needed one of you, after all.”

“You bastard.” Sean turned as best he could to look at Mark. His head was still hanging down, but his shoulders had hunched up. “You didn’t have to kill them. I know you only needed me to feed your god.”

“You mind your tongue, man-child. I didn’t have to leave either of you two alive, for that matter, but here you are to talk back.” He tugged on one braid thoughtfully. “Though I must say, I’m glad that you brought that hobbitess with you. Such nice curls on her head, and that fetching color… it will make a nice addition to the rest of my trophies here.”

Sean suddenly realized what all those different colored streaks of hair were and choked on a brief wave of nausea. “You lecture us,” he snapped, “but wear the hair of the dead so they will never rest?”

“As punishment for them falling in battle to my forces. Though they do get to have a part of their pathetic bodies decorating me as I bring my god out of his accursed sleep, so perhaps it is a blessing instead.”

“I’ll kill you.” Mark finally looked up, expression one of burning hatred. “I’ll kill you before your damned god even starts waking up. You and anyone else I have to, to get back at you for killing everyone-!” He was learning forward as much as he could, and Sean could watch the ropes pull against his arms as he fought against them. “I don’t care if I die, but I will make sure you pay for this-”

The chieftain’s face was no longer the picture of amusement. Instead, he seemed to be growing angry at Mark’s words, to the point that he strode over and backhanded the former prince. He was greeted by the man glowering up at him while a thin stream of blood began to trickle from his split lip. “I will not be addressed in such a way by a man-child, much less one who will die by my blade tomorrow at dawn,” he spat. “I suggest that you learn some manners, or make peace with whatever you hold holy, while you wait for that to happen. Or else I will send this one to the afterlife with the other four in your party.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The orc pulled from his belt a curved sword, unlike anything either of the humans had seen before, and placed its tip against Sean’s throat. He pulled away as much as he could with his bindings, but Sean could still feel it starting to bite into his flesh. “Try me,” the orc breathed, his baritone voice so low that Sean could feel it rumbling in the orc’s chest.

Mark huffed a sigh but looked away, and the chieftain returned his sword to its place on his belt before wordlessly walking away from them. Mark dropped his head again, trying to shift to get comfortable, before moaning faintly.

“You all right?”

He shook his head. “I nearly got you killed-” He made a choked noise, and Sean realized he was trying to not break down into tears. After a moment, he spoke again. “I nearly got you killed because of my stupid temper. And because I insisted on all of us going to the centaurs, I may as well have been the one to kill everyone else.”

“Hey, you can’t think like that. Maybe he got it wrong-”

“He’s their chieftain, Sean. I really doubt that someone’s just going to decide to not do what he orders for a change.”

“Well then maybe it’s not done _yet_. Come on, man. You wouldn’t let anyone else blame themselves for this, would you?”

“I- I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.” His shoulders hitched, and there was another choked noise.

“Mark… if you need to cry, then just cry. I’m not going to judge you for it.”

He sniffled, glancing up. There were already two definite tracks down his cheeks, cutting through the grime from the days of travel. “It just feels useless.”

“No. You feel helpless, not useless. But I’m here and…” Sean’s voice faltered, as he wasn’t even sure if he believed in what he was saying. “I’m here, and I’m staying here. Okay? If I get free, I’m not leaving you behind, and if they try to take me away from you… well then they’d better be ready for me to fight them. I won’t leave you. Okay?”

After another soft sob, Mark nodded. “Okay. That… that sounds good. Thanks Sean.”

“You got it.” He watched as Mark dropped his head again, looking around the camp for a long moment while trying to get his own thoughts straight. There was no sign of their weapons or any other gear nearby, nor could he spot the four horses the party had been using in a nearby corral. _...wait. Four..._ He started looking around more urgently.

“What’s gotten into you?” Mark sounded concerned.

“He said four!” Sean was whispering now, hoping that the orc didn’t have the ability to hear them from within his tent if he kept his voice low. “Mark, someone got away!”

Mark’s eyes went large, whispering as well when he answered. “Then that means there might be a chance.”

“We have to hope there is, anyways. That’s about all that we have right now.”

Mark glanced behind Sean before speaking again. “Quiet for now. There’s two approaching with something on a pole.”

Both men dropped their heads again as the two orcs walked up, one lugging a staff with something squirming around in the sack tied on the end of it and the other carrying two Y-shaped sticks and a bundle of firewood. The two pronged sticks were stuck into the ground on either side of the fire, and the sack was opened up to reveal a male halfling with dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, a gag in his mouth, and a multitude of bruises. As soon as he saw the light of day, he began thrashing all the harder and attempting to yell through the gag. Sean’s eyes went huge, but he held his tongue. The orc who had put the two pronged sticks into the ground grunted irritably as he lashed the halfling to the pole the sack had been tied to. “Still too loud for something so small.”

The other orc snorted, picking up the pole once the halfling was tied to it, bending it enough so it started to crack in the middle, and then putting it over the fire. “Feisty ones taste better.” He looked at the two human men, and Sean was sure that his face matched Mark’s horrified one, while his partner started building up the fire under the halfling. “Too bad we can’t roast one of these two. Halflings are so little meat.”

“Ha! True, they’re a snack and not a meal. But Chieftain says he wants to eat him.”

The other orc nodded. “What the Chieftain wants…”

“The Chieftain gets. Right. Now let’s go get the beer.”

They wandered off, and Sean looked at the halfling on the pole helplessly. He was still working hard against his bindings, though he was starting to sweat and look panicky. The fire was now roaring, so hot that Sean could feel the heat thrown on to his face and was wishing he could move a foot or so back. “I’d say I’m glad you’re not actually dead, but I don’t think you want to hear that right now.”

Mark glanced from Sean to the halfling, looking confused. “Sean, what…”

“Mark, this is Kormo. Kormo, Mark.”

The halfling started working his jaw for a bit, managing to get the gag out after a moment. “I’d shake hands with you but as you can see I’m a bit preoccupied. -What in blazes are you doing up here, Sean? You know better than to wander this close to orc raiding grounds!”

“Truth be told, we came looking for you since both Robin and Eliwyn were sure you weren’t dead.”

He grunted. “Well, this is a fine mess. I don’t think the Chieftain was planning on eating me, but then I saw Kelpy and-”

“You saw Kelpy?” Sean felt something like hope blossom for him. “She’s alive?”

“Was as of a day or so ago. She found me and was trying to get me free, but then the guards spotted her and she evaporated to get away. She did say she was going for help, though, so we might have a rescue party on the way. Once I saw her here, though, I started to try and figure out how to get free. -Though getting put on a spit and roasted didn’t exactly come up in the brainstorming process, if I’m honest.”

“That explains who got away from the group,” Mark said, while Sean snorted out a laugh at Kormo. “But the other four…”

“I didn’t see anyone else, so they may have been… well, to be blunt, killed.”

Mark cringed at that. “...Eliwyn was with them.”

The halfling stopped moving at that, looking at Mark with eyes full of sorrow before shutting them and letting his head drop for a moment. “...Winnie… no. Not like this.” His voice cracked briefly as he spoke. “I thought by telling the nymphs that word would get to her to not try to track me down.”

“You know her better than any of us,” Sean replied, tone soft. “She’s stubborn to a fault, and crazy about you. She wouldn’t have just sat back at something like that.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He exhaled, looking up again. “Suppose then that I can stop holding back.”

“What do you mean by that?” Mark asked. “Eliwyn mentioned that you’d spent time with the centaurs…”

“I did. And they taught me well. And if these orcs took Winnie away, I mean to show them everything I learned.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Sean interrupted. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it? Right now we ought to be worrying about how to get free from this.”

Kormo started to answer, but then grinned at something behind Sean. Sean turned to try and see what it was, but then felt something with tiny, sharp teeth gnawing at the ropes around his left arm. “...is that?”

“The raccoon!” Kormo sounded relieved. “Oh, if it’s still around, then Winnie lives!”

“How…” Mark looked confused again.

“That’s not actually a raccoon. It’s a spirit guardian of the world, created by one of the Eight. For whatever reason, it adopted Winnie ten years ago. It told her that as long as she lived, it would stand by her, and it’s never gone far from her since then. So if it’s here, she lives!” He looked around for any guards before uttering a few words in a language Sean had never heard before, and in a brief flash of light Kormo and the pole he was bound to disappeared before reappearing separately on the edge of the fire. He then hurried over to start untying Mark as the raccoon scampered to the other side of Sean to work on chewing through the cords on his right side.

“Why would a spirit guardian adopt a halfling?” Sean asked.

“Does it take any other forms?” Mark blurted out at the same time.

“I’ve no idea. All I know is that after I came back, before we were wed, she was out in the woods foraging and found it in a trap. She got it free and gave it some of the food she’d collected, and it claimed her. And given the way she treats it, I don’t think she even remembers how powerful it actually is. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen it take any other forms…” He got one of Mark’s arms free, and Mark stretched the arm out with a groan as Kormo started on the other.

“Oh, before I forget. Kormo, this is the human prince.”

Kormo stopped and took a half-step back. “The one whose father wants us all dead?”

“The same, but I don’t subscribe to his beliefs any longer.” Mark smiled briefly, trying to look reassuring.

“On the level?” Kormo didn’t even look at Mark, instead looking at Sean as he asked this.

“Completely level.”

“All right then.” He resumed untying the human, coming over to help the raccoon as Mark stood up as awkwardly as a newborn giraffe. “Careful of how much you move around; we don’t want you getting spotted right after you were freed.”

Mark nodded, crouching again as soon as he’d had a quick stretch. A moment more and Sean was free as well, rubbing at his wrists where he’d gotten some ropeburn from the way he’d been tied up. “Now what?”

“For now, we get out, we hopefully find Kelpy and any help she’s found, and then we come back in to get everyone who rode up here with you.”

“With your magic?” Sean asked.

“Hush.” Kormo gave him a look. “We’ll talk about that once we’re somewhere safe. For now, stay low and follow me.” He headed towards some bushes next to an empty tent, with the two humans and the raccoon not far behind. After some guards went past, they ran again to a new hiding spot behind a stack of logs. By that point there was a shout from the area of the chieftain’s tent, and there was a sudden rush of orcs to that area. Taking advantage of the incident, Kormo rushed them towards the nearest opening in the wall around the camp, and they all took off running into the dark and the depths of the treeline below.

* * * * * *

After an hour of huddling together in a cave that looked to be an abandoned bear or wolf den, listening intently for any sign that the orcs had tracked them successfully, the three finally relaxed a little. Sean and Kormo went for wood to build a small fire, while the raccoon curled up in Mark’s lap and watched the entrance with all the focus and ferocity of a well trained guard dog. It wasn’t until they returned and the fire was lit that it actually let its muscles stop tensing. “Poor thing,” Mark said while scratching the top of its head briefly. Rather than lingering for attention, the raccoon only sat for a moment before trundling off his legs and paced back and forth for a long moment, growling faintly as it did. “What?” He waited a moment before continuing. “I’m not… certain… but I think you’re the guardian I spoke to on the road a few nights ago.”

The raccoon stopped, sitting up on its hind haunches and giving him a long, steady look.

“I know Kormo said you are one. I just don’t want to assume that you’re the same one. I think that would be rude? I don’t have a lot of experience with the otherworldly, here.” He looked away, frowning. “If you need to go to help Eliwyn and the others… we’ll all understand. And honestly, I’d rather they all get out safely if it comes down to them or me. Sean can get them home and figure out how to keep them safe.”

The raccoon chittered briefly in response, before taking off at a run out of the cave and immediately disappearing into the brush. Mark just looked after it and sighed, still frowning.

“...and be safe,” he muttered after a moment more, before moving to clear a spot for the fire in anticipation of Sean and Kormo returning.

* * * * * *

Kelpy was feeling very all over the place right now... mostly because she was. Upon being spotted by the guard watching Kormo and evaporating, she had only managed to manifest again as dew on a patch of grass outside the wall of the orcs’ encampment. After finally managing to focus on anything but her worry and fear at the situation on the other side of those roughly hewn logs, she finally managed to literally pull herself together. Staring up at the wall, she sighed. “What am I even going to do? I’m no warrior. I’m a nymph! I do water stuff!”

 _You will be fine._ Kelpy glanced around at the voice, knowing full well that she didn’t physically hear it. Nearby, a fallow deer walked out of the brush, staring at her. _Kelpy, you have underestimated yourself for far too long. You know what power you could control, if you believed in yourself._

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kelpy replied hesitantly, unsure if it was commonplace to speak aloud to someone who was able to project their voice into your head.

_I respectfully disagree. Your brook comes from an ancient lake in these very mountains. I know that you feel its power within you._

Kelpy shook her head, droplets of water flying as she did. “No, no. Even if I did- I come from a brook! Not even a river! I don’t have the ability to control power like that!”

_Do not lie to yourself._

“I’m not! I’m being realistic.”

 _Growth and change do not come from realism._ The fallow deer strode forward, lifting its chin. _Try. Let us see if you can surprise yourself._

Heaving a sigh, Kelpy rolled her eyes, but stopped as she noticed a sizeable cloud over the camp that was slightly grayer than the rest of those in the sky. “Right,” she muttered. “I’ve only ever managed a drizzle before, but let’s see if I can do something impressive.” She raised her hands, palms to the sky, and closed her eyes to allow herself to sense all the water nearby - in the plants, the air, that one cloud above. True to what the voice had said, she could feel a thrumming like she’d never experienced before surrounding her now that she was connecting to her element. Eyes still closed, she inhaled and turned her hands so they faced each other, tensing her fingers around the magic as it pulled into her grasp in order to do her will. She opened her eyes and stared at the cloud, hands starting to shake as the magic vibrated wildly. _It’s almost too much to control,_ she thought, breathless as she focused on the act of sending this raw burst of water magic into the cloud, _but whatever’s here is right! I can actually channel more than I thought I could!_

She released and watched the magic shoot like an arrow into the cloud, and almost immediately an almost freezing rain started to fall, and hard. From the other side of the wall, there was a general rumble of displeasure and the sound of movement. Kelpy found a gap between two logs and peered between them, watching as most of the orcs disappeared into tents or other forms of cover.

Most importantly, the orcs that had been guarding the cages where Eliwyn, Robin, Signe and Tyler were being kept were among those who had retreated out of the storm.

Kelpy let out a whoop and ran along the wall, darting through the first gap she found that was big enough for her to slip through, heading for the cages. “Guys!”

“Kelpy!” Eliwyn was immediately at the bars of her cage. “You’re okay!”

“I could say the same of you four.” Kelpy grinned. “Any idea where your weapons are?”

“In that lockbox over there.” Robin pointed to the one he was referencing. “I could probably pick it but… I’m here.”

“Give me a moment to fix that.” Kelpy looked around, before picking up a hand ax that had been left behind. After a few minutes of messily chopping at the door to Robin’s cage, it finally gave up and fell to the ground. Robin moved to get into the box while Kelpy took the ax to Tyler’s cage door. After she got Tyler free, he took over and quickly got Eliwyn and Signe’s cage doors wrecked.

“Now what?” Signe wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.

“Now…” Kelpy suddenly was aware of the fact that she hadn’t thought this far ahead, and that the voice that had encouraged her was long gone. “We at least get out of here. Then we figure out how to rescue Sean and Mark. And Kormo.”

“Kormo’s alive?” This came from both Eliwyn and Robin simultaneously, and Tyler stuck his fist to his mouth to try and not laugh.

“Sounds like it.” Signe looked between the group. “Then that’s what we do. Hopefully there’s a cave or something nearby that we can take shelter in, and use as a base of operations while we plan.”

“Agreed,” Robin said, standing up again as he raised the lid of the lockbox. “Quickly now, everyone grab your gear and let’s get out of here.”

A few minutes later, a raven perched on the wall in spite of the sleet watched the group hurry into the woods, in the same general direction as the cave where Mark, Sean and Kormo were gathered. It cawed twice before taking off, beating its wings against the frozen rain back towards the cave. From on high, it could feel a faint sense of disapproval, but it cawed again. _Sometimes greatness needs a push,_ it thought as it continued to fly out of the localized storm. _Technically I only expedited things._

No response came from the heavens, and the raven took this to mean that there were to be no immediate consequences.

 _Good,_ it thought to itself. _Now to pull the threads back together, and to make sure they’re working as one to complete this. There is still so much to be done._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting the band back together guys!! What happens next? I'm not saying anything, that would be spoiling! LMAO...
> 
> Important: I know that since I started writing this Signe and Sean have split. I'm not keeping the relationship in to be petty or spiteful or anything like that. More it's that I don't know his new girlfriend very well as a person yet, and that I don't want to have to go through and edit every reference to Signe out. I am working out my plot outline to try and remove the more romantic references to the two out from this point on, though. Just so everyone is aware of my thought process.
> 
> We're hitting the final part of the story from here on out, dear reader. I hope you're enjoying the ride. Thanks for reading, and leave a comment or kudo if you would! Much love.


	23. Flip the Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Free from the goblins and orcs, but still separated, our party remains split and the storm rages on.

As day gave way to night, the storm that had been mostly rain with some instances of sleet fully turned over to a blend of freezing rain and snow. With none of them dressed for this kind of weather, Sean and Mark had elected for them keeping to the cave for the night. With Sean tending to Kormo’s wounds, he’d given Mark his cloak to give him another layer of insulation against the weather while the former prince kept watch over the entrance.

“Any sign of the raccoon?” Kormo glanced over at him, expression hopeful.

“None yet,” Mark sighed, keeping his hand on the thick, long branch Sean had brought back for a weapon to wield while one of them was posted as lookout. While it might buy some time, he was well aware that it wasn’t a permanent solution to being weaponless. So he was left with hoping that anything that did approach would make a racket and wouldn’t have better sightlines than he did at the moment. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I was. Thank you, Sean.”

“Of course, man.” He started picking up his scavenged first aid supplies. “I’m very happy to say that you were in better shape than we anticipated finding you, though.”

“They treated me well enough at first, when they thought that I was the one in charge of weaponsmithing. It was once they realized that I’d lied that I stopped getting treated like a VIP and more like a particularly unloved donkey.”

Sean laughed at that. “That is a very specific image.”

“It’s pretty much what it felt like, anyways.” Kormo got back to his feet, stretching all over before stooping to stoke the fire. “So what now?”

“We wait for this rain to pass first, I think. Then we figure out how to get back into the camp in secret so we can get everyone else saved. After that, we get away from here as fast as we can.”

“That’ll be a good trick,” Sean grumbled. “I don’t know where the horses are, and I don’t think you do any better.”

“One problem at a time, please?”

Kormo snorted. “If you two are done bickering, I could find them in a moment.”

“...how’s that?” Mark finally turned around completely to look at the halfling, forgetting about his guard duty for the moment.

“Trick I learned from the centaurs. Attuning one’s self to the forest in order to find certain things.”

“You ever going to tell us the whole deal with them?” Sean asked.

Kormo shook his head after a moment. “Not right now. But soon. Once we’ve got more distance between us and all those damned orcs and goblins.”

“Fair enough.” Sean set aside the ingredients so that they were out of the way but still accessible if needed, and went to sit by the fire. Mark turned to face out of the cave again, trying to focus past the noise of the rain to try and find anything that was moving in a deliberate way towards their position. “We’ll have time when we’re riding back home, anyways.”

“After I eat, anyways. I’m sure Eliwyn will want to fuss at me for a while.”

“Fussing, eh? Is that what you two call it?”

Mark snorted at that, briefly looking over his shoulder to see what Kormo’s reaction was to that. The halfling was just grinning. “Hey, I think I’m overdue for a fussing! Both the way I meant and the way you inferred.”

Sean laughed aloud. “Fair enough.”

The three men fell silent, save for the steady crackle of the fire and the falling of the sleet outside the entrance. Kormo dozed off after a time, and Mark was nearly about to fall asleep standing up when there was finally a noise that didn’t seem to belong. His eyes shot open again at hearing something low to the ground heading towards him. He drew his sword and waited, staring into the darkness and willing the thing to appear. _Even if it was a squirrel at this point, that’d be better than this waiting._

A moment later, the raccoon trundled forward, churring at him as it passed into the cave. It shook itself and then looked outside to bark twice, before heading over to Kormo to paw at his side insistently. The halfling stirred slowly, blinking multiple times before registering what was happening. “There you are! I was starting to get worried!” He scrambled to his feet as the raccoon barked again, before charging to climb up Mark’s side to perch on his shoulder.

Mark looked up at the raccoon once it was situated. “I thought you were Eliwyn’s to mind, raccoon.” He sheathed his sword and reached up to scratch its chest regardless, watching as Eliwyn charged into the cave and immediately grabbed Kormo in a hug before she started to sob into his chest. Another moment and Robin and Signe came in, heading over to greet Sean and to hug him as well. Last to enter were Tyler and Kelpy, and Tyler grabbed Mark in a short one-armed hug. “What brought that on?” he asked with a laugh.

“You looked left out,” Tyler replied, grinning as he released the shorter man. “I’m glad you found better shelter than we did.”

“I’m more happy that we found Kormo.” He looked at the two halflings with a smile. Kormo was now stroking Eliwyn’s hair lightly as she continued crying on him. “How did you all get free?”

“Kelpy came back for us and got us out. And we grabbed all our gear, including yours.” He moved his cloak aside, showing Mark his own shortbow and sword. After handing both weapons over to the other man, he continued. “They took the arrows, food and medical supplies. But we can easily restock those.”

“True enough.” Mark ran a hand through his hair briefly. “I am so happy to see you safe, though. I mean that.”

Tyler smiled briefly at that. “I am as well. -Come on, let’s go and sit for a minute.”

Mark followed him further into the cave, as most of the group had already found their way there. After some quiet coaxing, Kormo got Eliwyn to join them as well, which is when the male halfling spoke up. “Right. First things first, I think there’s some information that I overheard while I was captive that you all deserve to know. Especially you, Mark, since Sean says you’re the human prince.”

“I’m not-”

“You’re not for right now,” he interrupted. “But you were, and you’ll likely be again, which means you need to hear what I have to say.” He waited a moment before continuing. “The orcs are working with a human who has ties to the royal family. Someone named Damien. The plan all along was to capture you so that Damien could move up in the world.”

Mark could feel everyone looking at him, but all he could focus on was the roaring of his anger swelling up inside him. “Damien is my cousin,” he finally managed to utter. “If he planned my death… to get closer to the throne…”

“Then what happened on our ride was no accident. The fact that all three of us survived and are now trying to aid the group he wants to attack…” Tyler’s voice trailed off.

“He would know of all my plans to attack the Wylde Folk. He’s not going after them because he actually thinks they’re responsible for what happened to me. He’s using them as a scapegoat, and my disappearance just ties in neatly to let him officially announce war on them.” Mark went to get to his feet, shaking faintly with rage. “I need to go have words with my cousin. Did anyone see our horses?”

“I didn’t see our horses, per se, but I saw their pens,” Robin said. “They’re just outside the camp, near the entrance we escaped through.”

“Excellent. We go out as soon as the rain stops to take them back, and then we get back home to prepare. I have a bad feeling Damien has a leg up on us, but I mean to make sure he doesn’t keep that advantage for long.” Mark exhaled before looking around at the group. “We’ll have to ride hard and fast. If anyone doesn’t want to try to get back like that, I’ll understand.”

“It’s my home you’re going home to defend,” Sean replied. “I’m coming with.”

“Same,” Robin said.

“I still am honor bound to protect you,” Tyler answered, “whether you like it or not.”

“So that leaves the ladies and Kormo to take it easy-”

“Like hell we’re taking it easy!” Eliwyn got to her feet, glaring up at Mark. “You’re not catching me lollygagging near the back any more! If the orcs are working with this cousin of yours, I mean to give him a piece of my mind about them taking Kormo! And another piece about poor Ethan!”

Kormo chuckled. “You do realize that you _can’t_ scold people to death, right?”

“Perhaps not, but I mean to at least give it a very good try!”

Mark grinned. “Right. We’ll just assume everyone’s riding out with us, how about that?” When he was met with nods from everyone, he continued. “We’ll head out as soon as this storm ends.”

“Oh! About that.” Kelpy hurried outside for a few minutes, during which the sleet came to an end. When she came back in, she looked around. “There. All done!”

“You… can do that?” Robin looked impressed.

“Yeah! As of very, very recently. I just figured it out.”

“It’s incredibly handy,” Kormo glanced at the raccoon, still perched on Mark’s shoulder. It seemed to be distracted by something outside and thus never met his gaze. “But that sounds like our cue to head back to the village.”

Robin nodded. “Follow me, everyone.”

The entire group headed after him, threading through the brush back towards the camp. The paddock for the army’s horses was near one of the openings, but on the outside of the wall. After a dash across the path in front of the opening, everyone huddled up on the far side of the enclosure. Tyler and Robin slipped inside and led out two of the party’s horses each.

“What about tack?” Sean asked while taking the reins from one of the horses from Robin.

“Nowhere we could spot it quickly,” Tyler answered as he moved to help Eliwyn onto the back of one of the horses he was holding. “And we’re on borrowed time as it is.”

“Going to have to rough it this time, your highness.” Robin grinned at Sean, who glared at him while he jumped up to mount.

“...give you a roughing up for calling me that…” he muttered while reaching down to Mark. “Come on up, you. I want Signe with Robin in case we’re riding into a fight.”

“Fair enough.” Mark shrugged before taking Sean’s hand and seating himself behind the other man, watching as Tyler helped Kormo up before he mounted the last horse and helped Kelpy up behind him. Robin and Signe were ready as well, and before he could say anything further Sean kicked his heels into the horse’s sides and startled it into an uneven canter. The others fell in behind them, keeping up with the pace as they all started down the rocky path from the peak back into the forests below.

After a long period of quiet in which Mark assumed Sean had been more focused on guiding the poor horse down the slopes so they didn’t all fall and hurt themselves, Sean finally spoke up while craning his head to look back at him. “So now what?”

“As I said, I’m fairly sure he’s making his move on your- our people, given what Amy and the lords told us when they arrived.” He did his best to ignore the surge of panic at wondering how badly Amy might have worried about him being gone this long. “So I’m fully expecting us to walk right into my father’s forces.”

“Oh goodness, that’s cause for optimism, isn’t it?”

“I can call him out onto the field of honor to duel.”

“You can what the what now?”

Mark chuckled. “Nobility thing. It’s a fancy way of saying I’m going to call him out on his actions and then try to kick his teeth in for what he’s put me and everyone else through these last few days.”

“Ah. See, you put it like that and I get it that much quicker.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” He looked towards the valley below, eyes tracing a river as it cut through the fields towards the west. He was really trying to spot any side of an army moving towards the same direction they were, but he found no sign of any large group movement. “Sort of regretting my foolishness of tossing my circlet now, though.”

“I mean, you’re alive. Circlets can be made again, right? But you’re the only son your father’s got.”

“Huh… yeah. Suppose that is true.” He patted the other man on the shoulder. “Thanks, Sean.”

“No problem.” Sean shot him a quick grin before turning forward again to continue guiding their horse down the mountainside towards the home of the Wylde Folk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad that I got this done! I'm sorry it's short but I actually am going to be out of the country for the next week and a half in Ireland! I'mma go around shrieking "TOP'ATHEMORNIN'TOYALADDIES" and trying until someone gets what I'm doing!!  
> LMAO except not really.  
> I'm going to try to remember to pack a notebook so I can write in some downtime and type it up when I get back.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this far, and extra love if you leave a comment or kudos. Have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone's ready for a long read, the plot write up I have for this alone is 6 pages! We're easily looking at probably 20 chapters, minimum.  
> I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter! Let me know what you think!


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